The Black Sheep of the Family
by BookDragon
Summary: Rated for swearing and blood. Looking for criticism. Takes place in a future, either Anime or Manga it could be set in. Lorian Integra Michaela Hellsing was a failure in every way. Until she met Alucard. Not a Romance story. A feel good story.
1. Chapter 1

Book Dragon:

"Okay. I've been debating posting this for about…three weeks? I wrote the whole thing at the end of July. It took me a week and I was tweaking it here and there for the last couple of days. I wrote this while reading another fanfic The Way to Raise an Heir by DuchessRaven (Awesome fic, I suggest you read it) and waiting for it to update.

"Pretty soon I got to my own musings on the future of Hellsing and could not get this scene out of my head. So I wrote it down and things just kept coming and I ended up with this. I wonder about Integra, in the beginning as a child and how life would've changed after Alucard woke up. Unfortunately, this twisted away out of that view, I'm afraid, so I'll have to keep musing and hopefully, maybe, I'll find it in me to make up a beginning story for Integra and Alucard.

"For now, all I have is this little thing I wrote for pleasure (something probably done a thousand times. Sigh.) I really hope to get some criticism on this piece because I'd like to know how I can get better. If it means I get bashed…well, then I get bashed for the better. Please tell me what you think. I don't own Hellsing at all."

**The Black Sheep of the Family**

It was pitch black.

It stayed unyielding despite how much she blinked her eyes. The smooth walls were ice cold, as cold as the floor and the dust that brushed up beneath her toes. A few cobwebs could be felt, and once a number of spiders called over the backs of her hands. There was no telling how many. There was no scream at this horrific surprise, but she did shake for a time afterwards. How long exactly? There was no telling because no sun light could pierce this room. Hours or minutes could've passed since she'd been locked in here.

It was ironic. For all the times she had come in the night and stared at the wooden old basement door, with all its stars and circles etched in black. All the sleepless evenings (after waking to the odd billion red eye dreams, not frightening, but not peacefully either) it would leave her wide awake.

So, those were the nights where she padded down her with nothing put a big shirt and her underwear. Down all those windings steps, her feet echoing despite her best intentions and being barefoot she's creep. All ways to that door, the door to this room, she'd come and stare at it for unknown minutes or hours before turning back and going to bed. For all that time, and what was it? Four years now? She started when she was nine, at least.

All that time she never imagined what was passed it.

She sat in the corner of the room, scraped up knees pulled up and her arms around them, her head in her lap and fighting off the sniffles. There was no crying. A Hellsing _never_ cried. Never in a thousand years. No matter if you were on the brink of death, a Hellsing never cried in the face of fear. EVER.

But knowing didn't help much.

She closed her eyes and started counting in her head very slowly.

_1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…_

Her legs and arms relaxed a bit, and despite the old moldy smell she felt calmer. If she didn't keep her mind occupied, there were more than enough demons for her imagination to sling at her. Thinking about this didn't help, because she felt something trying to crawl up. A little flickering image of something dark and heavy moving, eyes bright yellow and breath rank and sticky like-

_What are you doing here Lorian Integra Michaela Hellsing?_

_I don't know. Gab shoved me down the stairs. _

_Who's Gab, Lori?_

_He's my brother… _

Gabriel Timothy Mark Hellsing. He was older by a year and a half. He looked the most like a Hellsing should. Short blonde hair and hard unflinching blue eyes, tall and not fat. Not lanky either. Enough fencing practices kept him in shape. He wasn't a jock. He learned to read when he was four and his constant tutoring nurtured and made his mind like a steel trap. He had a bright and prefect smile and all the self confidence a person needed.

But sometimes he could be smug and pushy.

_Why did he lock you in here, Lori?_

_T-to teach me a lesson._

The deepest part of the basement was forbidden. Lorian had found the place when she was five, and after father had found out she was briskly spanked hard enough not to be able to sit for an hour and told never to come there again. The punishment worked for a while, but Lori found the place again when she was seven. Wiser, she told no one, and felt guilty for some time, but never really stopped coming.

And no one knew about it till tonight.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

"_Dad said not to come here."_

_Lori whirled around, eyes wide and found Gab's tall and looming form directly behind her. He stared at her coldly and almost tiredly, standing in his pajamas. She watched him cross his arms over his chest and looked down at her waiting. _

"_I-I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Don't tell Dad and Mum." _

"_You've come down here twice already this month, even though you know it is forbidden."_

_Lori winced but stared at her brother fearfully. He said nothing, just continued to look at her until she hung her head in defeat. She started to edge by him, warily, but when he raised his hand and stopped her, she heard the jingling. Her eyes rose slightly._

_And between his fingers he held a black key. _

"_Are you curious as to what is in there, younger sister?" _

_Lori looked up at him with a chaos of emotions. Fear, hope, and curiosity were the three that ruled the most. _

"_Y-you'd open it?" Gab looked down at her and gave a small and reassuring smile._

"_Of course, baby sister. I was curious as to its contents as well. Dad said there was a legacy from our family hidden here. Something special. I'd like to see what it is as well. It will be our little secret. Here, I'll even let you open it."_

_Gab held out the key, smiling peacefully._

_It was all the bait Lori needed. She took it with timid yet excited fingers, smiling in utter joy as she rounded onto the door and found the lock. She shoved the key and turned it, all with trembling fingers, grinning ear to ear. It was a moment of complete and utter joy, the first she felt since she had turned eight and all the childhood seemed to flow out of everything like a disgusting ooze. _

"Thank you, _brother."_

_He chuckled and ruffled her hair. She felt pleasure at being touched by him. He never touched her or paid any attention to her. It was strange he was suddenly being so nice, but not strange enough to make any alarm bells go off in her head. His smile was too warm and welcoming. _

"_Don't mention it, Lori." He said pleasantly enough. _

_Lori smiled and pulled the door open. She didn't realize she left the key in the lock. It didn't matter at the moment. They were going to take a peek inside and go back to bed. The door creaked in a moan from the lack of oil in its hinges as it opened. The doorway and beyond was in utter blackness and nothing could be seen. _

_She'd been taken by the moment. She stepped forward, wildly curious, and noted the stairs going down, but that was all she could see. The smell was ancient. That's the only description she could come up with. The girl reached in and patted the insides of the walls, looking for a light switch, and then giggled at her own silliness. Why _would _there be a light switch?_

"_Hey, Gab, do you have a flash light-?"_

_She was shoved hard in the back. _

_Before Lori even knew what was happening she fell down the stairs, scrapping her knees, her elbows, and her outstretched hands that tried to save her from the fall. The scream she meant for the air lodged into her throat. A moan came instead when she felt the dusty cold floor pressed beneath her cheek._

_The door slammed and something clunked._

_Disorientated, she stood up groggily and could barely understand the words Gab were saying behind the door. They were muffled. After, sitting alone in the dark, she'd pick them out and put exactly what he said together. _

"_I was curious, Lorian, but I never _broke _the rules. There's nothing in there anyway. Dad showed me. If you were curious, you should've asked, but now that you haven't, you must be punished. This will help build a little character, little sister. Hopefully you'll stop being so damn timid. I'll come for you when the morning arrives, by then I'm sure you'll have learned, even if you are slow." _

_He did not chuckle as she heard him pull the key out of the door in a scrape. _

"_And remember, this is _our _little secret, so no tattle-tailing." _

_And he walked away._

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Lori hadn't bothered to scream. If she had screamed or pleaded in anyway, she would've been left here longer. What if she told on him? She'd be punished for either tattle tailing or lying. If the first came, then Gab would find more elaborate means to punish her.

So the girl had just sighed in the dark and waited.

She had been pawing the walls, to look for a corner to prop her back against, not to explore. There was no point in exploring in the dark. Gab said there was nothing in here. Gab was never wrong about anything before, so she took his word and sat, alone, and trying not to cry. Instead, she managed to fall asleep.

And woke to something moving in the dark.

At first she thought it was her imagination torturing her again. Too many horror books she'd let her mind wander through and now it was vomiting back the results. Another punishment. So she sat shock still and tried to ignore it.

When it just kept coming, she started shaking uncontrollably, her mind whispering of all the scary monster things. All those teeth and claws. All the blood that was throbbing through her body. Her legs tensed and she was panting in absolute fear, unable to help herself. When she finally lost control she crawled up the walls and tried to run back to the direction of the door. What she got was something blocking her foot, disturbing her run, and her nose making a noise that sounded oh so close to the crushing of bone as she slammed into a wall.

Dazed again, warm wetness seeped down her closed mouth from that throbbing appendage. She grabbed it with trembling fingers. Sore, but thankfully not broken. Someone must still love her somewhere in the great upstairs. Still, it wasn't nice to find you have a nose bleed.

Lori tilted her head back to try and stop the blood flowing, aware the movements _had_ been her over active imagination because she couldn't hear anything now. Of course, it could've stopped moving, but that was absurd. If something was really in here, some kind of monster, it surely would've taken her down, now that her nose was bleeding and blood was in the air.

Right?

She tried not to think about it.

What she did concentrate on was that something that she had just tripped over and tried not to connect the both of them. So nose still pointed to the sky, she started forward a bit and felt about like a blind woman, or someone who'd dropped their glasses, pinching her nostrils closed with one hand and feeling with the other.

No time existed. Just wondering thought.

Finally her fingers brushed against something. She went back and found it. Smooth. Brushed over it wonderingly and forgot about her nose bleed a moment. Blinked her unseeing eyes and used both hands to feel over it. Wiped her hands on her shirt, one at a time as not to loose it, and poked around. Lowered her face and smelled, despite her nose.

Leather.

It was round and thick. Smooth and smelled like leather. Her hands fluttered to a flatter part, something with ridges and things before she understood. For once she was grateful for her tactile nature.

It was some kind of shoe. Her fingers brushed over metal and free pieces. Straps? A boot. A boot lying at an unnatural angle; pointing towards the ceiling. She kept feeling, traveling up, and found not only the end of the boot, but something else. Cloth. Cloth and something solid beneath it.

_Oh my God, is it a body?_

The urge to fling her hands away and scream was crushed by sudden weighing adult logic.

_No, I would've smelled the rot…_

True. So what the hell was it? Some kind of manikin? It wasn't warm, but cold to the touch

-_Like a dead corpse_-

But it definitely wasn't rotting or anything, so it _wasn't_. Maybe some kind of weird suit of armor? It didn't make much sense. She kept touching, her eyebrows bunching together with curiosity and confusion. A harp-player would've been jealous at her nimble finger movements. Her mind wouldn't stop with the body analogies. Lower leg, upper leg, thigh, waist, chest, neck-

She was feeling for the place her mind said 'face' when it grabbed her.

Cold fingers curled with crushing weight down onto her wrist.

The shriek lodged in her throat and would not come out as she tried to pull away, even as stomach turning fear rose in her like a bonfire. Didn't so much as budge. Her eyes widened when she realized she was trapped. The spit in her mouth was gone, making it a dry desert. All feeling in her body jumped up stronger, ready for more crushing touch, and pain and agony.

A small torrent of air tinkled her fingers, before they disappeared into an equally cold and wet place. Sucked in breathe at a hiss and whimpered, but still couldn't scream. Slimy and cold, some kind of tentacle curled and felt around each finger, leaving a slime trail. Sharp points touched the part of her fingers closest to her palm as that long wet thing prodded and brushed.

Her mind refused to shut up.

_Your fingers are in a fanged mouth._

The breeze was an exhale. The tentacle was actually a tongue; she could suddenly feel the bumps that were taste buds. The slight pointed pressure was knife-like teeth resting lightly on her skin. All of her body went numb except those four fingers, currently lodged in that cold and wet place and being moved as the tongue licked.

Then she started shaking uncontrollably.

An eternity later of waiting for those digits to be bitten off, her fingers left the wet place, goo leaving long strains between them. She was ready for sharp pain to hit her face, not the little wind that brushed her face and tickled her nose. Frozen stiff, she didn't move. Just stared wide-eyed into the darkness and waited for herself to faint because her heart was beating hard enough to hurt.

A thumb pressed and wiped her upper lip.

It disappeared for a second, and then returned in another, wiped again, except smearing with cold wet liquid. She leaned her face away again and tried to recoil, but the sudden powerful grasp of her wrist increased, sending a flare of pain. She was pulled forward roughly and something cleaned the blood from her lips and breathe fluttered across the bridge of her nose again. It smelled dry and almost rank. Metallic.

Even though she couldn't see, she knew the blood was gone.

The wet left was saliva.

Lori's body exploded in goosebumps as she continued to quiver, waiting for the monster to finish its appetizer and sink its teeth into her throat. Rip it out and lick up all the blood that would splash about the room and maybe eat the flesh later. She could see the door opening the next morning, light spilling onto a maroon stained floor and Gab's face turning ashy white.

Until it got him, that was.

Her arm rose up under that crushing grip and the thing started to lick her elbow. Lori's face twisted in disgust and she turned it against her shoulder. Quick little pulls in her chest told her she wanted to start sobbing. She gritted her teeth together as her throat worked.

"I-I _won't_ c-cry." She told the dark despairingly, "A H-Hellsing _never_ cries."

Pretty soon she wouldn't have to worry about that, her mind consoled, even through the waves of terror. Pretty soon you won't be a Hellsing anymore. Pretty soon you wouldn't even be alive to worry about being a true Hellsing.

It was a strange but surprisingly comforting thought.

It made her tensed up arm and face relax. For some reason it made the prospect of death a little bit easier to digest and accept.

Or so she thought before that licking stopped. A moment later she found her back slammed into the wall, her arms pined, feet off the floor, and something laughing in her ear. It wasn't a pleasant laugh. More mocking and unruly that made the something in the back of her head twitch despite her throbbing skull. To hear that dark laughter meant this thing was intelligent as well as inhuman. It was a shock that made her blink even as words spoken in perfect English took to the air.

"Like hell you are." It bubbled and snarled at the same time. It sounded male, but was definitely not human.

Lori blinked at the darkness waiting for some kind of agony to blossom.

There was silence for a time instead.

"What is your name?" The thing demanded with metallic rank breath.

Lorian couldn't get her mouth open to answer. Her tongue was dead on the bottom of her mouth. It was weird. Now that it was talking, all the comfort was gone and now something else surged up in its place.

Her leg swung up and she tried to kick it, suddenly snarling. Missed. Slammed her head down when it didn't work and banged it on something just as hard. A distinct snap broke into the air; she felt the small break on her forehead before pulling it away with pain. It hit the ground and continued to smash, a more of a tinkling glass noise. Lori saw stars flickering around the dark, but couldn't see any better, dark laughter rolling off the walls.

"Little hell cat, you broke my sunglasses-"

The mocking laughter hurt more than anything. It was worse than the groans from her teachers when she brought back the worksheet they gave her because she still didn't understand. Worse than the shouting from her fencing instructor after three hours of trying to get one move done correctly, just once, and failing miserably every single time. Worse than even her father shaking his head at her and asking her way she couldn't do anything right.

"SHUT UP!"

Lori slammed her forehead into his nose again. It hurt, but it didn't stop her from doing it again. And again, and again, and again-

The blood was flowing from her skull when, finally, his hand came up and restrained her, pressing her head against the wall, still chuckling a little bit. One arm was free, however. She swung it out and gave him a left hook and tried to kick him at the same time. Neither did much good. She was stuck and even if she did feel his head rock to the side, he just kept laughing.

"Stop LAUGHING at me!" She bellowed, banging at his arm despite the soreness of her knuckles.

All it did was make him laugh harder and more viciously. He shifted her arms again, but he had only two arms to restrict her, and she was swinging her legs and her one free arm around. He pinned the arm again, but it left her head free. She felt the weight of his palm, crushing her shoulder. Head banging didn't work. So she did the only thing she could think of.

Lori she opened her mouth and clamped down.

Her teeth sank into his wrist.

It happened very fast after that. His blood was cold and sang onto her tongue. For a moment there was an insane urge to swallow, before he ripped his wrist out of her mouth. His hand fell down hard onto her throat. That did the trick. She stopped struggling, too busy at the sudden lack of air to notice. She grabbed that hand and gasped, gagging and trying to breath.

"You _bit_ me."

The voice sounded incredulous, before that laughter suddenly grew to a terrific volume. It was so loud it made bells ring in her ears. Lori felt she was drowning in the utter blackness of it. She thought the _room_ was dark? That was a laugh! The metallic taste in her mouth had yet to be swallowed back, and she didn't want it to. Yet it was hard to pool the spit in her mouth and get rid of it at that moment.

His forehead pressed against hers.

Was there a flash of red?

"You should never bite a vampire, little hell cat. Not unless you wish to join the undead. It would be too easy to return the favor."

Suddenly his grip was gone. The coolness of his brow gone. She slid down the side of the wall and fell heavily on her ass, head bleeding and sore all over, but before all else she managed to twist her head away and spit out that metallic taste swimming in her mouth.

There was a spinning sensation that made her want to throw up, but she knew he was still somewhere in the room, even if it was dark. Lorian started to sweat and just lean over and go to sleep. Exhausted. Her legs and arms didn't want to move and her head just ached as she tried to look about the room for him.

For the billionth time in her life, her own inadequateness was shoved in her face.

Lori could feel herself leaning forward, ready to fall onto her face and faint. She could tell from the panting and the swaying. There wasn't a thing to be done about it. The wind brushed past her face, but she was caught before she could really break her nose this time. A steadying cold hand grabbed the back of her shirt effortlessly.

"Tuckered out? Well, it has been a long night." The voice said, almost mockingly. His arms came about and collected her up. Soon she found her cheek against his chest and being carried like a little baby in his arms. She wanted to lift her head and smack it against him, but she was too tired to even try. Terror can be draining, and her will wasn't very strong. It was a thing she was constantly reminded of. A terrible little truth that always seemed to have grown its own set of teeth and had a tendency to bite in their own right.

She felt him move forward and heard his feet on the stairs.

The door opened without any problem at all.

Far too tired to be surprised at all, Lorian's head just lolled and she let out a small sigh before she finally fainted.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Book Dragon: "Bad? Good? Somebody let me know. I'm accepting flames."


	2. Chapter 2

Book Dragon: (blinks. Pinches self.) "Oh wow, that was something I definitely didn't expect…Thank you blackpanzer, teardrops, My Haven, and Sirus183 for your support, I greatly appreciate it. Um, like I said before, I don't own Hellsing. Erm, to the next chapter…"

Chapter 2

And woke up in her bed the next day.

The duration of the morning was spent wandering between these two thoughts: 'Was it a dream?' And 'Is anyone going to find out?' These two thoughts were always conflicting with one another because Lorian wasn't sure if the night had been true or fiction at all. It was a dream, so she shouldn't be having this nagging worry about someone finding out about something she didn't even do. Yet, it felt real and she kept worrying.

Standing in front of the mirror and seeing her shirt without blood or dirt on it didn't provide a 'yes' or 'no' for either question. Lorian dressed into a pair of pants and a shirt. As she buttoned it up, she glanced nervously at the clock. It red 8:06 in crimson flashing lights. Maybe the red from her basement dream? But that was a thought to consider later. The current one had to be that breakfast was taking place, and if she didn't hurry up, someone would notice.

Breakfast consisted of toast and eggs. Lorian ate them slowly, taking frequent glances at both of her parents. Dad sat at the head of the table, as usual, his blonde hair golden in the morning light and his blue eyes fierce. He gestured and spoke to her mother about business. Her mother, a brunette with equally blue eyes twirled her fork around and asked her father pointed questions. Both ran the family, though Dad wore the pants of it, so to speak. Still, if anything ever happened to him, Mom could've taken over just as easily.

Gab was spared one glance. One glance only. That was all she needed. He was pressed and calm looking, eating his bacon and pancakes. He smiled and nodded and commented, posing interested questions and nodding when their father offered him some attention. He was tranquil, but from the way he refused to even look at her, Lorian knew he was on a new level of angry beneath. When she left the room and they were properly alone, she'd feel it.

And she did for the most part.

Lorian didn't get much of her breakfast down, a little too sick with apprehension from the on coming battle. When he grabbed her upper arm in a strong painful grasp, the sickness went away and she was pleased to find it would be sooner than later. Her body was twirled around, and when she saw Gab's look she was stunned.

"Where the _hell_ were you?" He asked.

His eyes, boiling oceans, burned in their sockets. There was anger, but ruling above that she found curiousness. A hunger for knowledge that was making his fingers, even in a death grip, shake a little bit and his lips press hard enough together to be white.

For a moment, Lorian could see her brother descending the stairs, twirling that little black key around, humming to himself. She could see him reach the door, say a few consoling words, then provoking ones, to try and get a rise out of her. Then she could see him getting angry, throwing the door open, and finding no one. Running through the halls trying to find her for since dawn, until she came to breakfast.

"In my room." She told him, taken aback. He shook her, hard and painfully.

"No you weren't! I checked there ten times! _Where? And how'd you get out?_" He snarled.

"Is there a problem, Gabriel?" a voice asked. The young man looked up and found their teacher, a lanky but incredibly intelligent man, staring at them coldly behind a pair of spectacles. He let go of Lorian and straightened up and give a bright little smile.

"No, Mr. Howl, Lorian just cheated while we were playing hide and seek. I lost my temper with her, sorry Lorian." He said, looking at her pointedly for a moment. Lorian just nodded, a bit dazed and didn't quite meet her teacher's gaze. He didn't ask her if it was the truth. Lorian always felt Gabriel had a charm that always bewitched people. When the teacher just smiled and nodded, she knew that would be all. She also knew that after classes, Gabriel would be on her again.

So she was distracted, trying to think of some answer to appease Gabriel instead of the dream she had had. It couldn't be real. Her clothes would've been covered in grime, blood, and dust; couldn't be truth. Maybe she had found a way out in her terror and simply went back to bed without remembering, because if it was real, all of it, then that meant so was the…

The _thing…_

"Are you cold, Lorian?" the teacher asked. Lorian hurriedly shook her head.

"Then why did you shiver?"

"M-muscle twitch."

The teacher stared at her for a moment, but raised the chalk back to the board and continued to lecture, eyeing her and making sure she was paying attention and wrote everything in her notebook.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Hours later she twisted the handles of the sink and plunged her hands beneath it. They were starting to blister from four hours of fencing. It was their teacher's idea to make her fence against Gab because he was her superior. He had been relentless today. She'd been slapped on every bit of her body that had been exposed with the blade and now her skin was irritated and red in long red lines in places. That and she was just sore all over.

The water was icy bliss to her aching hands.

She sighed with pleasure and let her sweaty forehead lean forward and rest against the mirror, fogging up the glass with her chaotic heat. It would go away, but the pain would not. It would plague her in the morning and fencing would be hell for the first hour.

But for now, it was quiet, and she noticed she still smelled like gun smoke. That was the only weapon she found herself entertained with. It was easy to fire a gun. That's why they only practiced with it for an hour each day instead of four with fencing.

Still, it was an hour where she forgot herself for a while, pointing at paper targets and shooting. It was a time where there was no constant yelling and she got to wear safety glasses and earmuffs. Not to better her brother (that was impossible), but to be content with feeling the gun recoil and hearing its muffled bang.

Lorian shook her wet hands before drying them.

She glanced out the window and found the sky that crimson flame as the sun fell out of it. Dinner would begin soon. After that, Gab will have recovered from his fatigue. The day proved very busy, thank God, and Gab hadn't had many chances to get the answer to her amazing escape act. After dinner, there were no more classes and educational actives to safe her.

It would be just her and him.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

But she got lucky.

At dinner Dad decided it would be better if he took Gab to a meeting, just to give him a perspective on what his future would contain. After all, the organization would be going to him. Gab didn't look at all displeased, but Lorian knew he was livid. It would be all the worse when he did finally catch her.

As for the organization, Lorian was not jealous of her brother. He wasn't chosen to have the organization because he was the oldest or that he was her brother. He was picked because he was the best for the job. He succeeded, _exceeded_, in everything they threw at him in little to no time. And what did she do? She failed everything miserably and had to try and try again until she finally got it right, even though she knew it would just be better to drop it and give up.

Inadequate. Not right for the job. Insufficient.

All of it meant failure.

Lorian Integra Michaela Hellsing was a failure.

And she knew it.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Dusk passed to absolute dark blue night.

Lorian hid in the library. She'd found a shelf that was open in the back corner of the library, under many of the old texts, long ago as a child. It had been big enough to sit in, at the age of six, and even better the back panel was ripped out making the only entry point to the place behind it, a narrow closed-in space that was dimmer. It was a tight squeeze now, but she made it, brushing the shelf about and making the books hide the entrance to her secret place as she crawled further in.

Among the treasured things she felt had no place in the eyes of her family, she sat with her little plain notebook and worked away with her pencil. To the walls were taped her drawings, and in the notebooks and folders she collected, were all the little stories she had put to paper.

Writing and drawing. Those were the two things she liked and could do without feeling utterly useless. It was sad really, considering. Both were just for fun. Story-telling and drawing had little to do with Hellsing. It wasn't a major prospect. It was only beneficial to those that kept records.

None of her things were of that nature.

That's why no one saw them.

Lorian was in her place, curled up in a ball and sketching feverishly for more than half the night. She froze all movement when one of the servants occasionally came in to do some light reading. Sometimes it would be a long cramped hours, lamp burning next to her leg, listening to pages fluttering boredly past outside, but when they left she breathed easier and started her business again. This disturbance proved more fortunate, having taken less than five minutes.

Alone again, she started her picture for the second time: a hand drawn completely in graphite, slightly reaching out, and fingers in mid-movement. Strains of drool connected them like spider webs and she made little marks that looked a bit like moving dusty air. Or cold breathe. Part of her wanted to draw teeth, and she was lowering her pen to do so when the light went out.

Lori blinked and looked up at the ceiling, checking it for any other lights that might be on in the room. No soft yellow glow flowed up there. That meant someone had shut all the lights off in the room. Still, she tried clicking her own little lamp on and off. Found it no good. She sighed and crawled back and out through the shelf. Stood up and blinked. The windows were open and moonlight poured in. Other than that, the electric yellow twine was gone. Everything was dyed fairy blue.

In the twilight she made her way to the nearest light switch, one by a hard wood desk, a computer monitor sitting on it with a keyword with the clutter of paper on it. Flipped it on and off with no result. There goes drawing for the night; right out the window. Couldn't balance a flash light and try to draw at the same time, and candle-light was not good enough; hurt her eyes after a while of straining.

So she sighed.

And heard something move behind her.

Lorian whirled around and found no one there. She knew better, especially in the dark. Very, very slowly she studied all the walls with her eyes, flickering over everything and making sure not to miss a single detail. Her body was tense and ready to move under her command.

The carpet was bare. The shelves were neat. Business papers, paper clips, and a letter open sat glittering on the top of the desk. Chair was pulled out slightly, open and empty in front of the desk with a bit of moon light splashed onto it from the window behind her.

Nothing, still nothing.

Her heart was jumping in her chest when she found nothing at all had changed, just the damn lighting. She sighed, but was still creeped out. Looks like the rest of the evening would be spent with people within ear shot.

The girl turned, ready to hunt down the door that was behind her.

And found a man in a very large hat.

He was at least two and a half feet taller than her. Tall, but not abnormally so by human standards. What was odd about him was the color of his clothes. He wore a blood red trench coat over a plain black business suit. An odd red tie tied in some kind of bow encircled his neck and the white shirt collar beneath. His boots were black and ended up at his knees. He wore gloves and the backs of them held strange markings and words, but she didn't focus on them.

Her eyes moved up in a flick and found his hat, also red with a lighter silk ribbons buttoned together in a criss-cross pattern above its rim. Lower, was his hair, ebony like volcanic glass. His skin was pale. His glasses gleamed hard yellow. Below was a not to big, not to small looking nose, and finally was his mouth.

Two pointed fangs overlapping the other thirty white teeth.

He was smirking.

Lori grabbed the letter opener off the desk and had it risen in her hand before she could so much as blink. He stood there, unmoving and still grinning murderously. She couldn't seem his eyes behind the yellow glare. Her feet spread, ready to lunge at him, as her voice came out.

"Stay back." She said.

If the child within Lorian could've seen this before, that child would've said that it probably would be the only moment in history that would not have made her great-great ancestor roll over in his grave in embarrassment and or disgust. It would've been the thing that would put a satisfied smile on her father's face.

"What are you planning to do with that?" The red stranger asked, humored.

His voice was exactly the same. Lorian studied the man again, connecting the beast in the basement to odd man. There was an urge to tremble, but she fought it off. Now, out of the dark and with this thing in the light and appearing as a man, her fear wasn't so great. It was still there, but it wasn't dominating. It was an illusion that made her calmer, even as she glanced at the letter opener sticking out of her hand.

"…I'll stab your heart."

"You need a wooden stake to kill a vampire. For being a daughter of a family of vampire-slayers, you aren't too bright." the man (the thing) said.

Lori stared at him, confused. Was he making fun of her?

"T-there are no such things as vampires." She told him, and then flinched when he let out a giant wave of booming laughter.

It rocked off the walls and seemed to surround her. Her legs twitched and almost leapt at him without her say so. She made herself relax them a bit, but kept her eyes on the red stranger and his two very pointed teeth. He was clearly a vampire. Saying they didn't exist was very stupid thing to do.

"Oh really. So your family has been doing nothing for the past three hundred years?"

"We protect the Queen and Country!" She shouted indignant.

"And killing bloodsuckers is not doing that?" He asked, his voice still mocking. Lorian opened her mouth to say something…and then realized she had no retort for that. So she shut it again and stared at him with the coldest and most unafraid stare she could manage.

And that's when her ancestors would've started turning in their graves again.

Because there was still lingering doubt. Still.

Lorian started to lower the blade, unsure. So very unsure. He was beyond scary, but he seemed to have a very good point. Did she really know what her family did for a living? And wasn't it strange that they were trained in weaponry, war-history, and equally as much in mythology?

When he stepped forward, she fought the urge to step back.

Lori lifted the knife up again, between them.

"I told you to stay back." She said, but her voice was uncertain.

"I heard you, but are you my Master?" He asked.

Lorian watched him take another swaying step forward. He continued to smile. Her foot tried to edge back and some part of her mind was yammering to run like hell. With all its noise, it was very hard to ignore. Still, somehow, she clenched her teeth and bore it.

"This is your last warning." She growled.

"Let's hope so." He said.

And took another step forward.

Lori's feet charged onward and closed the distance. A few seconds of eternity occurred to her in nothing but flickering pictures. All sound and sensation was gone. She watched her hand come up and plunge the blade, gleaming blue in the moonlight, into his body. Watched it sink in up to her fist and the blood well up to her fingers.

But nothing happened.

She stood for a full second like that, suddenly aware her own teeth gritted together in a disturbed little smirk. It came off when he didn't sink away or grab his stomach. Instead, her eyes slowly crawled up his form and found him still standing there, grinning down at her.

It took another second for her own murderous little smile vanished and terror filled her face. All the power and will suddenly ran out of her like cold water. She lost control of her feet, now aware that her body had decided the flight method was better than dealing with this threat. Not that she got far. His hand clamped around her arm, in the same exact place where her brother had grabbed her that morning.

She snarled at the pain as he lifted her right off the ground. She twirled in the air and somehow managed to roll her other free arm around and dig her elbow right into his cheek. She felt it connect with his jaw, and felt it dislocate as his face rocketed to the left. There was no time for a surprised look. She let out a battle cry and kicked him in the stomach, trying to make him over balance.

It didn't work.

Lorian watched in disbelief as he simply turned back, the grin crooked and his teeth a bit bloody. As he turned, she could see one eye behind one of the yellow lenses, his glasses knocked askew. It was as red as the death of the sun each and every day.

And it was staring right at her.

The man continued to smile at her, even as he took his face with his other gloved hand and shoved his jaw back into place. That done, he grinned a little wider and showed off his fangs again.

"Not bad, little hell cat, but I think you can do better."

Lori stared at him.

_Don't give up. Not yet. Please, not yet. _But she could already feel her will waning beneath that grin. That was a death-grin. She didn't need to hear any bell toiling for her to know that. Her eyes stared at those pointed teeth and her imagination offered her what it would feel like to have them sink into her throat, the blood rushing out of her body and into the gullet of-

Her foot flew up and smashed into his chin.

When her leg came back down, it screamed protest. She wasn't use to having it stretched over her head like that, and she spun around by her arm from the momentum created from such a sudden move, gritting her teeth, but not screaming at the pain yet. She was getting close. Her eyes flew up to his fingers and she clawed him, ripping a layer of skin off both of them as she dug beneath his fingers and tried to pry them off.

A bit of blood trickled down her arm and the pain was fierce, but she ignored it. The monster was now laughing at her again and she could see his head coming down through the corner of her eye, his glasses winking like screwed up diamonds. His fingers weren't budging and she knew was in trouble when he grabbed her other arm.

She found herself hanging by both arms now, her body dangling like the letter Y before him. The pain lessened, but that wasn't going to do her much good. He had her arms and her hands, the most useful tools of the human body. But for a vampire? He had a more valuable and fatal weapon sitting in his mouth.

The glasses dipped to the bridge of his nose and she was staring at two blood red orbs. They stared back at her with narrow pupils. Not reptilian, but getting a little too damn close for comfort.

"Now what?" He asked, "I've got your arms and hands now." And he rubbed his thumbs against her wrists to prove this point, repeating what she already figured out.

"All that leaves are your feet."

Lorian looked down at her feet. They dangled uselessly in her shoes.

She looked back up and found him still staring. Before she could even begin to pull them up, he bent his elbows and brought her closer. She swung her legs around, but no amount of kicking had any effect on the lower half of him. He stopped when their noses were maybe three inches apart.

"And that takes care of that. You have no weapons, little Hellsing. What will you do now?" He asked.

Lorian rolled her head back and smashed it into the bridge of his nose. It seemed she was doing this a lot lately. When the stars stopped whirling around her vision, she observed the blackish blood starting to ooze out beneath his nostrils, but he was still grinning like a lunatic.

"This is fun, but-" She tried to head butt him again, but he extended his arms. Her head hit nothing and all she managed just to do was get dizzy.

"-you're going to break your skull doing it. Try something else. Be creative." He invited.

Lori looked over him again, trying to ignore his mocking. She saw the knife and kicked it further into his guts without thinking about it much. It didn't hurt him at all, even as the blood started to flow and the hilt disappeared into him. She was running out of things to do. Her arms were starting to ache again. Soon it would hurt too much to think right, not that it was any easier right now.

She tried to lift her legs, bring them up and try kicking his head hard enough to break his neck. They were too weak to do it in one swoop. Gritting her teeth harder, making her jaw ache, she lifted her legs and curled them around his chest. Going to rest them and then pull them up the rest of the way when he started laughing again.

"Not shy, are you?"

_Don't you _dare _think about that!_ She snarled at her active imagination, but her eyes were too busy lowering down to observe the situation for herself. The hold was loose, he had her too far away for her legs to curl around him and lock like a lover's would, but still it could've been imagined from a third point of view. Still, the surge of embarrassment brought the power she needed.

Her legs came up further and his neck went between her ankles. An idea was trying to work with the physics of the situation. She wanted to use her ankles to twist his neck and snap it. The problem was she wasn't able to move her legs the right way to do that.

Her brain was still trying to get around it, but her tactile nature ruled now. It had been for the last few minutes. Her feet came down and pressed against his chest, instead. Her back arched and she attempted to walk up him. The only reason why it worked was because he tilted one foot behind him and obliged, leaning back and loosened his hold on her arms. Lorian stood for a moment on his shoulder, then crouched because it rested the strain it caused on her arms.

Now it was clear he was playing with her. She was swaying up there, trying to keep her balance, but she continued to stare at him, meeting his crimson gaze. He didn't let go of her wrists, just tilted the brim of his hat back enough to stare back at her.

For one insane moment, it felt like they were dancing.

Then he let her go in a flash.

Too fast. Lorian over balanced and hit the floor with a thundering bang. Groaned at the shattering pain there for a moment, wondering if she broke her back as she stopped herself from curling up into the fetal position. The girl rolled over towards him. From a ground level view, she watched him plunge his hands directly into the knife wound. Blood slid down his sides in small streams as he dug around, found it, and pulled it out without so much as a grimace.

He put it back on the desk before looking down at her and offering a hand.

Lori stood up without taking it, and held her fists up like a boxer, even as her legs buckled beneath.

He laughed at her.

"I think that's enough fun for you tonight." He replied stepping forward yet again.

She threw her arm out in a weak punch with everything left in her. He caught it easily, twirled her around. Lorian found her back pressed against him and her arms crossed in an X over her chest, restrained. She was panting and sweating a bit, and now all movement was arrested. Her eyes slid to the side of her face and his breath swam in her ear canal.

"Now its time to be quiet and follow…"

He started taking steps back. Lorian was unable to let herself be dragged, and she found her feet moving numbly. Dumb stupid things. They turned out of the door's view and down an isle. She looked around wildly, still hoping for escape because he'd be biting her soon. That's what vampire's did to their food. Nothing presented itself to her.

The door opened instead.

Lorian opened her mouth wide to scream something, but a gloved hand slammed over her lips. Her bellow was nothing but a straggled mutter. There were footsteps minutes later. No voices. A shadow came wandering up, closer and closer. The vampire artfully curled her wrists and covered her mouth with one hand to free the other. A shadow came closer and closer. Lorian tried to struggle and escape, to shove back so the books would rock from their shelves and hit him on the head, to warn the person, but he restrained her easily enough.

It proved to be in her best interest anyway.

The owner of that shadow wasn't human either. Lorian watched the figure come stumbling into view, eyes widening. It looked humanoid at first, but when its orange eyes turned towards them and she could see its huge pointed ears, she knew that was a dead mistake. Brown, almost black in the moonlight, it stood with a slight hunch, and it had a muzzle as long as her forearm, and fierce set of teeth.

But the vampire's arm rocked out before it could even twitch. It didn't shove him back. His hand pierced and went right through its chest. It hung impaled for a moment, before loosing the lights of its eyes and swirling away to dust. It was over in less than three seconds. His hand came off her mouth and her arms were released, but it moved and just grabbed the back of her shirt in a blur, to make sure she didn't go anywhere.

Lori didn't let it stop her.

She pulled the shirt right off and started running, flew out past the doors and down the halls, in the dark, like a hunted animal with nothing on but her pants, her shoes, and her bra, running at full tilt down the hall.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

And so it is probably easy to imagine the look on the maids' faces, whom saw her first, flying down the hall virtually topless. Personally, she was lucky. Further down, the cooking staff (which consisted mostly of boys and older men) was going home for the night. The ladies were able to get a towel around her quivering shoulders and into a room before the men showed up to the high pitched screaming.

An hour later Lori was sitting in the same room, a cup of hot chocolate in one hand, and her father demanding what in the name of hell had gotten into her. An hour is a long time to think of a cover story, considering no one would belief a vampire was running around in the house. She thought up of several before finding the one she wanted. Her shirt had gotten caught in a door jam and she found herself stuck, so she took it off and was running to her room to get another one before anyone would find her indecent.

Dad didn't buy it, but he didn't pester the truth out of her. From the way he pinched his brow and shook his head, it was clear he didn't want to know and he thought it frivolous, especially in the middle of the night. Lori hung her head. She didn't want to look at their hard grim faces anymore, and the feeling was mutual. She was sent to her room and told not to come out until she stopped acting like a child.

The only thing good about it was that Gab couldn't torture her. Now that the man in red was running around in their very house, it was a silly worry. She sat up half the night, unable to sleep, staring at her door, ready to see him come walking through it. Game over, and now it was feeding time.

She fell asleep around three in the morning.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Book Dragon: "Comments? Again, I'm taking flames."


	3. Chapter 3

Book Dragon: "Many thanks to Scott, Sirus183, Blackpanzer, Lord Makura! As to Scott's question: yes, but not until much later. I wrote this all out ahead of time and don't post anything until I'm sure it's finished. Now, I'm just editing and posting, erm, please be patient…"

Chapter 3

The next five days were hell on earth.

Lorian could not sleep at night. Everything just started to deteriorate after the first day. She started to lag behind in school work and Gab was beating her up in fencing. Mr. Howl was screaming at her. Everyone seemed to be screaming at her. Everything wasn't as clear as it use to be, despite drinking as much coffee as she could get her hands on. Each night proved fruitless because he didn't return, even now when she had sharpened a stick from outside and had stolen a garlic powder shaker off the spice rack in the kitchen.

Gab kept torturing her, but she some how retained her silence. It took him two days to realize she wasn't going to tell him. It was a relief when he stopped trying. On the third day Mr. Howl got so fed up with her nodding off in class that he sent her out of the room and told her not to come back until she was going to get serious about the work. So she wandered down the hall, found the outside world, and fell asleep in the grass for three blissful hours until the gardener found her with a puzzled look on his face.

Yelling, yelling, and more yelling. Then it was asking what the hell the matter with her was, was she sick? That seemed to be worse than the yelling because they decided inviting a bunch of doctors to look at her and retake her temperature over and over again was going to solve it. Not that it did. Luckily, her parents refused to call a psychologist. That was just dandy with her.

The only place she could really escape was shooting practice. The gun fire kept her awake and no one could hold displeased conversations with her at the same time. It was bliss. That's where she was on the fifth night, aware she was standing on her last legs and at some point would have to fall asleep, fall asleep or die of exhaustion. Could a person die of exhaustion?

She lost track of time, no clock or windows in the shooting gallery at all, just walls of cement and paper targets to shoot at. She spent more than five hours there in some sort of limbo, her thoughts just swirling around in her head, an unintelligible muttering sea that never did shut up.

One minute the gun was pointed at paper, and then the next minute she turned around and aiming it at his chest. Even through the ear muffs, she could hear his boots hit the floor and woke a little more to it. Aware of how the gun was shaking a bit in her hands and her arms just wanted to sag.

"A P27. Does it fire silver bullets?" He asked.

But something was clearly wrong with him. Lorian looked past the barrel of her gun, past his chest, and up at his face. His hair was wilder and less neat. He was grinning, but only a little bit, and was he swaying ever so slightly on his feet? She stared at him, confused yet curious. Maybe that's why the gun barrel lowered a fraction of an inch.

"N-no."

"Well, you at least _tried_ to come well armed otherwise." He said while nodding towards the stick she kept hidden under her left pant-leg and the garlic shaker in her right pocket.

"The stick isn't much of a stake (it would break if you tried to hammer it) and the garlic is completely useless." He added.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She asked and surprised herself by doing so.

The smile on his face did vanish, completely, for a full ten seconds. The glasses slid down the bridge of his nose (she wondered if they had a habit of doing that) and he just stared at her with blood red eyes that were completely unreadable, but they were almost wild. It was like looking into the eyes of a snarling wolf, jaws open and ready to tare out throats.

Then he smirked a little.

"We're both on our last legs." He replied.

Lori lowered the gun, a look of incredulous shock on her face.

"You haven't been feeding." She said.

He didn't move. Didn't so much as twitch in protest to her statement. He just kept standing there, smiling that haunting and deadly smirk, swaying just a bit in his clothes.

"Yes." He agreed, but said no more.

"_Why_?"

"No one has given me permission." Lori stared at him.

There was a billon questions suddenly swirling through her mind like a torrent. It made the gun in her hands slump a little and for her straight posture to show her own weakness and begin to slouch.

It was also weird to find some part of her was still calculating as well, despite the crushing fatigue. What was more dangerous than a hungry vampire? Not many things at all. It was worse than having a gun pointed at you. You could at least control firing a gun by removing your finger from the trigger, but basic animal hunger? No one could control themselves when they were starving to death.

Permission or no permission from strange masters.

"How long have you gone with out…?" She gestured.

"A few days. You offered me your blood." Lori shivered.

She hadn't really. Standing there, she was aware the there had been blood on her fingers that night as she had tried to touch his face. He'd simply taken advantage of her. A bit like he was doing now. Why the hell did he feel torturing her was so much fun?

"But that wasn't enough?" She asked, deciding to discard those thoughts.

"No."

"How long since you've gone without a proper meal?" And she winced at the word 'meal'.

He stood for a few silent moments. When he took one step forward, the gun bobbed back up and pointed at his head, ready to fire. She hadn't known how skittish she was. There was something deadly and thick in the air that wasn't helping her stay calm.

"Thirty years."

Lori couldn't help but gawk at him. That was completely insane! She couldn't imagine going thirty years without something to eat. After a week a human being was suppose to die. It was disturbing to find a vampire could still stand after that amount of time. More disturbing because she could see he was starting to loose control of it. His eyes were staring a little too much.

But what could she do? She tried killing him. Again, and again. It was impossible, as she was right now. How long would it take him finally stop playing and succumb to that hunger? Couldn't be too long. Someone would die to his fangs if something wasn't done. Several people even, maybe.

Why not her? Right now?

"H-how much would you n-need to s-sustain-"

"A pint." He replied, the smile vanishing from his lips again.

He looked at her curiously. He didn't ask her anything though. Lori was figuring it all out, taking the steps in her head with cold logic while beneath her more human childish side was squirming with terror. If she could just keep breathing regularly, she was sure she could do it…

"I'll be back." She told him, edging around the wall, gun still pointed at him.

Lori looked at the door behind her, to make sure it was still there, and looked back at him. He hadn't moved. He was just looking at her, not saying a word. When her back touched the door, she kicked it open, slowly, and shuffled out.

He just stood there as the door banged shut.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Minutes later Lori was running down the halls again, sprinting as fast as she could without waking anyone up. It had gotten very late. Still, she found the room she was looking for. The door with the Red Cross painted on it wasn't locked. It was a nice surprise for her. She thought she was going to have to shoot the lock off or worse, sneak into her father's room for the key. The door opened readily enough under her quivering fingers and she entered without bothering to turn the light on.

It was full moon now, so she could see well enough. It could've passed as a walk in closet. She didn't mind cramped places, so she looked over the walls quickly enough. Found the cooler in the wall and opened it. The childish and squeamish side of her demanded it.

Nope, nothing.

Blood went bad too quickly, even if you did refrigerate it incase of an emergency (what kind of emergency her parents guarded against Lorian could never quite imagine). There was no use in buying and keeping blood for a few months and throwing it away. If it even _was_ a few months, Lori really didn't know.

Lorian didn't bother to sigh. She shut the cooler doors and flickered her eyes around the place, looking for the next best thing. There was everything a hospital would carry in one of their utility closest. Bandages, antiseptics, medical tape… She passed over all of them, shaking her head, when finally her eyes froze on a little white box.

Needles.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Lori found herself in the kitchen a few minutes later. Part of her refused to even understand what she was doing. Using her teeth and her fingers, she tied the weird rubber tube around her arm and pumped it, clenching her hand and unclenching it, looking for the vein to pop out. They'd taught her how to do this once. She could remember wanting to pass out and being scolded about it. Not that, at the age of seven, did she ever see a need to know how to draw her own blood.

The needle went in easier than she expected. It was a pin-prick of pain, and she immediately started shaking afterwards. She bit her lip and made herself calm down enough so she could draw it out. It was slow. The dark red that filled up in the tube was thick and rich. There was no way she could allow herself to realize it was her own blood, so she thought about other things and blanked out the sight before her rational mind.

When it was full, the needle came out and she splashed it into the glass next to her. She did this several times, keeping that carefully blank look on her face and letting her thoughts swim through limbo. The glass filled up higher and higher, and she only stopped when she got light headed. The needle came out one last time and she pressed her fingers against the vein and applied pressure to stop the bleeding.

"You're going to give me your blood?"

Lorian flinched hard, turned and found him standing in the corner of the room. She hadn't even heard him enter. He stared down at the glass of blood sitting on the table over his sunglasses. Was he disgusted? He wasn't smiling. She continued to hold her arm, glancing at the gun she'd left carelessly on the counter.

"Yes. It's not like I could wake someone up and demand their blood…Or let you kill anybody. Is it not good enough for you? If I remember clearly, you weren't complaining before." She snarled.

He didn't reply. His eyes were glued to the glass. Was he ignoring her?

"Would you stop staring and drink it alread-"

He stride was sudden and powerful. Fast. He grabbed the glass and titled his head back as he chugged it down. Lorian froze, as stiff as a board and watched in horrific fascination as the red liquid swirled and disappeared, his throat working and making sure all of it slid down his throat and into his stomach. Not a drop of it was spilled. He even licked the drops off the rim of the glass before setting it down.

His appearance changed dramatically. His hair was still ruffled but now with the fierce glow his eyes had taken, he looked more like a beast than ever before. The sway was gone from his stride and he moved effortlessly. Differently. It made gooseflesh spring onto her arms. The girl crouched in the chair a little more, trying to look smaller and go unnoticed.

The movement did the opposite. He stared down at her and smiled lazily. Smugly. Grinning starting to widen a bit, those large pointed teeth all the more present. His eyes were beyond wild. It was a red flaming chaos and made the crimson storm that swirled endlessly around Jupiter look small and calm. Charged. Ready for anything. When he laughed, it was stronger. Everything about him was stronger and surging with power.

_Awake._

"I'd forgotten how _delicious _your family's blood is" He half purred half snarled.

He grinned like a demon.

And suddenly she knew this had been a stupid idea. He had been unconquerable before, what the hell did she plan on doing now? No, worse, now he looked ready for more. To keep feeding. She watched his tongue polish over his teeth, collecting the remaining scarlet there, before grinning with satisfaction. Somehow, she repressed a shiver.

"You have no idea what you've just done…"

When he stepped towards her, she scrambled out of the chair and backed away. He stopped, but laughed blacker than any laugh before it. She was afraid. More afraid than she had been in the dark the first time they'd met. She grabbed the gun off of the counter and not only pointed it at him, but fired. Then watched the gapping hole in his head bridge back together. He just grinned wider.

"Stay back, _Monster._" She said, but all the will in her voice was gone.

It was too late. He was already too close and looming over her, blocking her escape. All she had was a little pistol, a lame twig that would be prone to snap, and some white dust that would do nothing except maybe make him sneeze. What the _hell_ had she been thinking? All he had to do was grab her and sink his teeth into her neck.

"_Monster_? Alucard was my name last. What are your orders, Master?"

"What-?"

"Lorian?"

Lorian didn't even have to blink. The blood-craving monster was gone. She was staring at an empty space. She did blink, just to make sure the sudden transition wasn't some kind of illusion. Nope. He was really gone. Still, her body won't stop quivering and when she turned her white face towards the doorway, she found Gabriel, looking sleepy and staring at her. Or, rather, staring at the smoking gun in her hand.

And then to the bullet hole in the cabinet across the room.

"What are you _doing?_"

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Lorian was sent to her room for the entire day, but only after her father sat down and talked to her, one on one, for about two hours. It was a relief when he finally finished up his speech, stopped rubbing the bridge of his nose, and finally set her to her room. The bed never looked more beautiful in her entire life. She flopped down on it and slept for the whole day, straight through.

No nightmares; no dreams.

Just comfortable blackness.

And when she woke, the world was clearer and crisper, stained in moonlight. A rested mind sees a hell of a lot more than a worn one. She felt better, and could've rolled over and gone back to sleep, like a glutton, but he was back. She saw him sitting in the chair that went to her desk in the corner, legs crossed and hands curled in his lap. He looked tranquil, but it didn't stop her from bolting up right.

"Good evening." He said simply, but derisively.

Lori stared at him warily from the bed and said nothing. Minutes passed. She regarded him. He sat there and let her. She was thinking and trying to decide, shifting into the lotus position. Finally, she found the right wording and spoke slowly and cautiously, trying desperately not to stutter.

"You aren't going to bite me, are you?"

"Not unless you ask."

"What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you, you came to me." He replied.

Lorian continued to watch him carefully. If he so much as twitched the wrong way she was going to run. Maybe he knew from just looking at her because he stayed eerily still.

"It wasn't intentional-" She started.

"I know. It doesn't change the fact." He retorted. Then he did shift, very, very slowly, leaning his elbow onto the arm of the chair and held one side of his face up.

"I'm bored." He added.

He clearly looked it. Lori wasn't sure she had it in herself to be sympathetic. He'd thought scaring the hell out of her and watching her struggle for her life had been fun. Hadn't he? She thought back on it, curiously. He hadn't really done anything to actually _harm_ her. She, on the other hand…

"And it's a beautiful night. We should go out and have some fun."

Images flashed through her head. _Blood splatter. Heads lobbed off. Evil cackling. Broken jaws. The boom of gunfire. Blood covered fingers. Dust. Swirling dust. Fire. The ripping swish of torn flesh and the loud hollow crackle of breaking bone. Whine of bullets veering off walls. The feel of the gun recoiling, jerking back, hot in your hands. The twinkling belling-ring a spent cartage makes as it turns, end over end, smoking to the tile floor, before rolling in a pool of steaming blood…_

Lori shook her head hard. Gritted her teeth against those thoughts, and found something appalling in the way her lips were curved up in a dazed smile. It made her shiver, and very aware of the way he was just watching her from behind those glasses with chin resting in one gloved hand.

"What if I say no?"

"Well, then I'd have to find something interesting to do here." He replied, like it should've been obvious.

Which meant wreak havoc on the place. Lorian bit her lip, thinking. She could see the blood pooling in the hallway and her father glaring down at her, asking what in the name of God she thought she was doing. Or believe she'd killed them. The first Hellsing in history to go on a crazy melee and end up in jail, for sure.

Then she thought she found the loop-hole and smiled.

"Alright. As long as you promise not to hurt anybody."

And yet she felt uneasy as he showed his teeth in a sadist grin.

"Deal."

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Book Dragon: "Comments? Again, I'm accepting flames…"


	4. Chapter 4

Book Dragon: "Thank you, pruningshears, Ridicully, mslcats, and Psygirl for your reviews. Thank you everyone who has posted a review for any of these three chapters. I'm pinching myself continually in amazement."

Chapter 4

London at night was odd. Seeing London at _all_ was odder. Lorian stretched her neck looking up at the buildings and gawked at the people. As the lacking child, she'd never left the house much. She'd been out only once or twice, and that was for family meetings and things.

City life was bizarre and intimidating. The smells were both pleasant and disgusting. The people were interesting and frightening. The noise was dominating. The cars roaring by like wild beasts and the occasional blast of a horn as some cabby slammed the wheel in agitation. The street lamps making orange pools of light on the sidewalks and drawing thousands of moths, fluttering in endless circles. The old buildings, the mold, and the age of the place; not as well kept as her own castle.

Her fingers brushed the pistol in her pocket and found comfort.

Despite her best intentions, she found herself drifting closer and closer to him because he was something at least _known_. He didn't glance at her or make a comment to it. When she glanced up at him, she wondered if he even was aware she was with him anymore. His red eyes stole to the scenery and the people and the cars. His stride was casual, as if he was just going for a calm after-dinner walk.

Maybe it was how they got out of the house without anyone knowing that made her a little bit more comfortable in his presence. She'd had no idea how to slip past the guards, but he'd showed her something he could do.

It took maybe a half hour for him to get close enough to grab her by the shoulder and bring her through the wall with him. He did it, though, and she had had a hard time not shivering as they got out of the unspeakable blackness and into the weapons room. Despite her best intentions, she had been clinging to him when they finally walked out of shadow.

Watching him pace through that place was like watching a kid in a candy store. He'd pick something up, weight it, shake his head, and move to something else. When he found what he wanted, a huge black pistol with a long barrel, she could tell he was pleased. He found the clips for it, a box full, and tucked them into his jacket with ease.

"Aren't you bringing something?" He asked when she hadn't moved.

Lori took an automatic pistol and a few clips to both humor him, and if need be, distract him in case he did break his word. She supposed if she blew enough of him apart, it would slow him down and give who ever was in trouble a little more time to escape.

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Another jaunt through a series of walls and out onto the street, she'd had a taste of the unknown and found she didn't need to cling so much. He kept one hand on planted on her shoulder, however, as they passed through. So she won't get lost in it. In the black, Lori was aware of the vastness of it. And its dangers. It would be easy to let it swallow her and become apart of it forever.

Now, ten minutes out in the real world, the world moving like a chaotic machine that had escaped the control of its master, she was suddenly pleased to have someone as powerful and ruthless as him with her. A few odd staring teenagers across the street weren't so menacing, and the nervous fluttery feeling in her stomach was gone.

Or it was until he stopped at the dance club.

Lori hadn't been paying attention and nearly slammed into him when he stopped. When she saw him, gazing up, she followed his gaze, hearing the thudding boom of some loud base, and read the sign. _The Blood Bank_.

It wasn't ironic that he picked this place. She curled her hand around the butt of her gun and watched him carefully. He cracked his hands a bit and pulled up the collar of his jacket, before finally regarding her with a blood red stare.

"Our first lesson will begin here."

Lorian blinked at him, startled. Lesson?

He stepped through the double doors…

And into a world she couldn't comprehend. The music was blaring loud, hurting her ears immediately, and assaulting her eardrums. She could hear the base drums and a guitar working; feel the beat making the floor shake beneath her shoes. It was dim and murky; the lights were colored and swirling around like search-lights. There was muttering and laughter and happy shouting.

Tables set up and a huge dance floor, it was all blocked out by the amount of people. People moved in black masses, like darkness itself. The air was physically hot from all the body heat they generated, and she could see people nodding and sweating, sitting at tables or at the bar, drinking from glasses of all sizes.

Beyond them in the maze of lights, red, and blue, and green? People in all styles of clothing, but for the most part the older girls wore tight clothing and the boys wore baggy outfits, moved in weird ways to the beat. It wasn't ballroom dancing, some kind of weird shaking and shifting movement that she knew she'd never get. Shoes banging and tapping on the hard wood and hands wrapped around waists or wandering over breasts and mouths close or connected.

Lori gawked at this night world.

"Hey, buddy, you're not allowed to bring a kid in here!" a man yelled from the side of them. Lorian turned her face in his direction, barely hearing him shout over the music and the people.

He was big. More than six feet high in a black tank top, tanned with huge muscles that seemed to be bigger than her waist. They were inscribed with black tattoos, of skulls and bat wings. His blonde hair was gelled to spike and he wore fingerless black biker gloves and jeans with huge skull breaking boots.

Her red vampire (looking punier in the muscle department) just looked at him, his glasses lowering to the bridge of his nose. He was smirking, but it changed again. It was slightly annoyed, but humored by some sort of lack of intelligence. A bit smug. His hand came up and touched her shoulder, finger tips light. It made Lori glance at him.

"This isn't a child, but if you have further complains-"

He lifted his gun and pointed it at him with the other hand.

"I'm here to see someone." He added.

It was amazing, seeing the pent-up anger vanish to a creamy white fear that swept through the bouncer's face. He held up his hands a bit, but wasn't out right terrified. He was a bit skittish though. Lori watched his face move, fascinated.

"Hey, whatever man. I'm just saying." The bouncer replied, stiffly.

It was over. The gun went back into his pocket and the hand came off her shoulder. He moved, his trench coat wafting behind his feet and she followed, glancing over her shoulder at the man every few minutes. They reached the bar, which was pretty tall. Her nose was about two inches above the counter when she stood on the floor.

The beast in red leaned against it and looked at the bartender, another spiky headed boy, lanker with a nose piercing in his left nostril. He wore black as well and a load of crosses and pentagrams. When he put his hands on the counter, his finger nails were also painted black.

"What can I get cha?" He asked, smoothly.

"Where's the owner of this establishment?" The young man blinked at him, and then laughed at his proper manner. He also gave a curious glance at her, but it was a passing sort of thing. Something to do.

"Upstairs, man, to the left. _Jesus_." He laughed and pointed across the dance floor, and in between the mass of moving bodies, she caught a pair of double doors with a sign on them. _Employees only _written on it in bright scarlet. There was darkness behind the little perfectly square windows.

"Thank you."

He moved and she followed. He stepped onto the dance floor and the speakers were ten times as loud. They were swallowed by the crowd, the shuffling of bodies. Lori curled into herself in an attempt not to be touched and kept as close as she could. He just walked and ignored them all, and they parted for him. When she was starting to loose him, he stopped and turned a lazy gaze back and waited for her to catch up.

At the doors, he pushed them open and she followed him close. Stairs made of cement and metal railings that were dank and smelled of cigarettes led up in a few twisting turns. He ascended, and pulled his pistol out and slammed a clip into place. Lorian removed her own weapon, ready to counter attack any of his actions if need be.

At the very top was a blank door, but something had changed. It was dramatic. Lorian didn't like it. It was almost a smell and a touch, something that could be felt pressing against her skin or the tips of her fingers. Danger was very close. The music was muffled and the vibration in the floor was gone, making her feet feel bare. She looked at the door warily, so warily she nearly missed what he said.

"When you shoot, shoot for the heart. The head will be secondary. It will be fast, so try to keep up."

And he opened the door.

It took maybe five seconds to see what was happening. It was over in less than three. He moved in less than that time. If someone had really been in trouble, she would've failed miserably in trying to protect them. By the time she would've shot him, he would've at least fired five shots and the person would've been nothing but a bleeding mess.

He strode in, fast, and after his coat stopped fluttering in her eyes, she saw the office. The couch and the red carpet. The paintings hanging on the walls, the squat little desk. Smelled the cigar smoke. All that was in the background. In the foreground was a man sitting on the couch, his eyes glazed over as two younger girls in matching costumes, black leather pants and tight fitting lacy white tops, nibbled his neck and sucked the blood from him.

Both of them lifted their faces from their meal at the sight of him and managed to hiss before a shot slammed into each of their chests and another into their heads. Another man behind the desk stood up, his chair falling with a thud behind him. He was much faster than the others. More prepared too. He clicked the machine gun in his hands and didn't bother talking much. He riddled the vampire full of holes. Lori barely escaped, flinging herself to the side, unable to scream.

Her body moved on its own. Her shoulder slammed into the carpet, but one eye was already squinting and aiming. Her bullet slipped too high up his chest to hit his heart. The blood flew and he rocked back a little. There was no horror, even before she saw the fangs the man was sporting.

Instead, there was a sudden singing blast of sensory. All at once she could see clearly. See every detail of it, this place; the very world. It was like it had suddenly grown brighter and more real than ever before. Almost as if a sharper second pair of eyes just opened in her mind.

She could see the red in his eyes.

Suddenly, she grinned as her trigger finger twitched.

And turned them to black as she fired two shots into his skull.

Lorian got to her feet and watched the blood run from his black sockets, like scarlet tears, before his body just leaned forward and slumped onto the desk with a thud. She kept her gun pointed at him, in case he so much as twitched, and only heard the muffled rock music.

Something shifted on the floor.

Lori looked over at the red trench coat on the floor and wasn't surprised much by the black swirling that was seeping into it. It was interesting to watch. Her heart was pounding, revealing in the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The clarity was going away. He swirled like an ebony fog, tendrils flowing up beneath the coat. Smoke drifting backwards, flowing back into him. Velvet lightless twilight that moved like fog.

When they stopped, he lifted himself up and stood. She watched the darkness swirl and remake his face. One of the lenses was cracked and gone, so she could see one red eye looking towards the desk even before he wandered over.

He picked up the corpse's head, looked at the two black eye sockets were she'd shot out his eyes. When its fingers twitched, he pointed the muzzle into his back and shot once. Then his fingers relaxed. Those red eyes looked at her a minute.

"I said the _heart_ first. Not the head. And _never_ look into a vampire's eyes. That is how they gain control of their victims, hasn't anyone ever told you that?"

His words brought home what she just did.

Lorian looked down at the gun curled in her hands in disbelief as the killer inside left her completely. Still just a child in most ways, it was shocking to discover the human brutality in a soul, even if you trained in instruments that were meant to mare flesh. For a moment, she felt she was going to be sick.

"I-I killed them."

"No, they were already dead." He pointed out, a tad annoyed.

She just stared at him, trying to understand and having a hard time. The worst part, she was finding, was not that there had been no hesitation, but that she had actually _liked_ it. Felt truly alive for a few meandering seconds of her life.

"Stop it." He snarled before she could follow the urge to throw her gun away, "This is what your family as done for years. That is your nature. Don't be afraid of it. Embrace it."

His words weren't soft. They were normal and spoke factually. They were meant in no way to inspire or give hope. They weren't even flavored with that sick amusement of his. It was just truth. Lori stared at her pistol for a few long seconds, feeling her heart beat in her chest. Steadily. Rhythmic.

Considered it.

Yes, they were vampires. Yes, they were dead. She looked at the body of the man, dying from the fang wounds and the blood dribbling out of his next. Blood loss. The lights were gone from his eyes. Now no more men would die by those three pairs of fangs.

So she looked up at the red clad monster.

"You cheated." She said.

"Cheated? You said not to hurt anyone. I didn't." He replied, smoothly.

"Monster." She snarled, beaten.

"I already told you to call me Alucard." He said, straightening up, the gun still in his hand. The predatory killing craze was back, in full view on his visage. Pleased as punch.

"The night is still young. We need to find the Head vampire."

Lorian considered it, before finally tucking another bullet into the barrel of her gun. With all the target practice, with all the sword-play, all the war history she'd been schooled in, was this not what they wanted of her? Even if Gab was going to be a better killer, a better weapon, but did they not train her to be one as well?

Isn't this what they _always_ wanted of her?

"Alright. Let's go." She replied in a sigh, defeated again.

He grinned like a jack 'o lantern.

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Lorian was covered in blood by midnight. The fight was over by then as well. The vampire-Alucard- had introduced her to more of his kind and their ways. It was a glimpse, but she learned a lot. She learned about Ghouls and about the powers of head vampires. A few things, not all. Most of the things mythology just rattled off with absolutely no taste what so ever. It gave no real sense of the extent of it.

It had been…intense.

The zombie like forces were slow in moving, so she picked them off one at a time and allowed him to show her how to take down a Head vampire. It was educational, to say the very least. She watched them fight, watched him sustain injury after injury and just keep getting back up and dealing out more punishment before finally stabbing his heart with one hand and sending him into swirling dust.

It was later, standing among the bodies, that she asked him the question, timidly.

"What was the thing you killed in the library that night? It wasn't a Ghoul..."

"That was a Freak."

"What's a Freak?"

"A servant with a mind, very much unlike a Ghoul. Don't worry; I killed its master the other night." He said, his tone implying that he really wasn't paying much attention. Yet, he smiled a little. A wolfish thing that was secretive.

Lorian nodded to his answer, satisfied. Also, completely oblivious as to how a Freak could've entered their house when none had before. The house had defenses, of course it did, it had the only potential heir. How a Freak couldn't entered, even under the influence of a little maggot vampire was impossible.

Without inside help.

Alucard kept smiling.

But Lori's thirteen year old mind never connected the two.

Instead, Lori looked at him to see if he was annoyed by her stupidity and slowness that was hinting through such a question. Mr. Howl sometimes was. Her teacher didn't know it, and for the most part he was good at hiding it, but some times it would slip onto his face. Alucard's face was as it always was. He wasn't looking at her, just standing in the little field where they'd chased and cornered the head honcho and took him down, staring up at the sky.

It was strange. Mr. Howl and Alucard were already being compared and contrasted in her mind. Mr. Howl was one to write notes and engage in longer conversations and try to be patient. Alucard was mostly sarcastic, and he made snide comments, but didn't exactly yell. He'd called her an idiot a few times, but it wasn't anything like Mr. Howl sighing for the third time as he tried, again, to explain something to her.

They were both superior.

They were both teachers.

But the word 'master' brought something else to mind. Hadn't he _called_ her Master? Thinking back, was that not why he had asked for her orders last night in the kitchen? Why would he believe that she was his master? Because she came and gave him blood? Lorian hoped he was mistaken or maybe just crazy. Teasing her? She was not a Master in the least. If anyone would be his Master, it would have to be Dad or Gab-

"What is your name?" Alucard asked, still looking up at the moon.

"Lorian Integra Michaela Hellsing." She muttered.

Stretching her gaze up to the silver circle, still thinking, but soon it all became secondary. She could see why he was staring at it. It was very large and rather lovely for such a clear night. She did not miss the curl of his lips, humored.

"Master isn't such a mouthful." He said, as if he'd been reading her thoughts.

"Not that. Hell-cat is more becoming than Master." Did he look annoyed?

"Or Lorian or Lori." She replied, unyielding, but it was a shy thing.

"Very well, Hell-cat then."

Lori sighed.

And for a while they both just stared up at the moon.

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Book Dragon: "Reviews? Flames? I'm reading everything."


	5. Chapter 5

Book Dragon:

"Many thanks to KrysSaiyan, blazingfirewolf, J Luc Pitard,

Hatake no Kuro Fenikkusu, and Lord Makura for reviewing the last chapter. Thank you everyone for the support.

"Thanks especially to J Luc Pitard for the advice. I always did find I was bad with battle scenes and your model idea might help me out a bit. As for Howl, I'm a bit embarrassed to say the name came up because it was the first one to pop into my head and I knew it was English because it was in the Diana Wynne Jones book. I have seen the movie. As for the crossover idea…maybe if I did a sequel for this, I'd do something. Apologies.

"I thought about trying to add stuff having to mark the time, but I really couldn't think of much that didn't seem overly dramatic. Something odd pops up later in Chapter 8, but I'll see if I could add anything else when I can. As for weaponry…I'm not exactly knowledgeable and you probably already saw that. I was thinking of something like a revolver but with a clip instead. I should ask my brother, he plays all the shooting games and knows quite a bit about guns…

"Thanks again. I think I've said enough in this note and should go to the next chapter. I don't own Hellsing at all and I love criticism."

Chapter 5

The next month and a half was interesting. During the day, Lori did all the things that were expected of her and was obedient to her parents, her brother, and her teachers. They were pleased by the change of behavior, pleased to have everything back to normal. Even if she did take frequent naps in the afternoon, she did as she was told and didn't act up, at the very least.

But at night?

It was very enlightening. Most of the time she felt trouble-some and totally inadequate. Wet behind the ears. A novice. Then something would happen, she'd nail someone a hundred yards out with one shot or get a perfect bull's eye and create a black hole in the center of some undead's head. She'd blink, surprised again, and smile. There were no actual compliments or pleased statements from her undead teacher, but he didn't yell at her when she screwed up either.

It was a bit like target practice.

_Elaborate_ target practice.

It became fluid, like riding a bicycle. She could do it without even trying. Her hand would move the gun and she'd fire without having to aim too long. It was easy to get a chest and head shot. If someone was behind her, her ears alone could tell if it was foe or not. The clips went in and out nimbly and she didn't even have to look any more; it was like her fingers had grown a mind of their own.

But, she knew, that by no means did she ever equal her teacher (that was _impossible_. He'd take a step and vanish, he was so fast, and each shot was perfect.) But some nights it looked like she might, one day.

If she lived two hundred or so years longer than expected.

Not that she had any plans of joining the undead.

Though she did think about what he told her on the first night of her killer's education. _Only if you ask._ That wasn't exactly it, though. She'd have to command it of him. Always was he shoving that weird title in her face. Master. She couldn't see why. Was he making fun of her? The thought of ordering _him_ seemed like a very arrogant thing to do, to even try would be...she couldn't even think of a _word_ for it. He was the teacher, not a…servant.

On evenings when she came home, two or three in the morning, sometimes the rest of the night would be spent with her hands behind her head, staring up at the ceiling, trying to imagine not feeling her own heart beat or not having to even breathe. To be cold. Eternally cold. To rip open the blood packets that Alucard 'borrowed'(stole) from the hospitals they 'visited'(broke in) and just slurp up the cold metallic red from within it. Or, even odder, to curl her lips around warm hot flesh and pierce into silky skin with her own sharp bladed teeth and have its warmth slide down her own throat.

Sometimes she had dreams where she was a vampire, but they were mostly uneventful. A lot of wandering around a night, through the city she was becoming more and more aware of. They weren't interesting because they always made her wake up and feel utterly alone and lost.

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Who knows how long it would've gone this way. Lorian would've never seen how much she had grown if her grandmother hadn't come to visit.

Lorian Integra Michaela Hellsing had been given her grandmother's name as a baby, but that was about all they had in common, or so it seemed to Lori. Her grandmother seemed to be everything she was not, superior in every way that counted, and stronger than anyone she'd ever met in her short little life.

Besides Alucard.

On some level, she'd been aware that Grandma had always been disappointed in her, even from when she was very small. It started when she was having trouble reading and was present ever after. There were still words she couldn't get her mouth around. Grandma was a cold and distant woman, but you could still tell when she was truly pleased. She had a little smile that, when used, seemed to make whole rooms stop with disbelief.

Lori never made her smile once.

Gabriel had managed it only twice.

The reason she was visiting was not to really spend some time with them because her cold nature even went to her relationship with her son. He was eager to please her and invited her for a visit, even if he was just as frosty to her in their conversations. Did he disappoint her? She was still running the company, but she was starting to get old.

She was aware of it, still as tough and sharp as steel. However, she was aware of a future that was growing near and near every day where she'd be gone and someone would have to take her place. She wanted to see a capable person step in when she passed.

Her expectations were hard to meet, on the other hand.

It seemed Dad hadn't managed it. Gab was on a trial bases. Lori was pretty sure she failed.

That's why it seemed ridiculous that Dad set up the sword fight between her and Gab; just to show Grandma how much they grew since she last saw them. Grandma already discarded Lori as a possible heir, even Dad knew that. So that meant he was really trying to show how much Gab had grown. How much stronger. Show the benefits of his son. The pride. Lori was the only one that could even try to keep up with his skills now. The computers certainly couldn't keep up. All the other boys that all those noble families brought succumbed to him.

Besides, they didn't like to be humiliated, so there really was no one else for it.

Dad stood smiling proudly with his hands behind his back as they stood on the lawn. He stood close to Grandma, ten feet away from the siblings, and watched his mother carefully, smiling.

She stood there, in a green business suit even in the heat of the way, wearing her white gloves and holding a cane. Her eyes were still as icy and intelligent as they had ever been, behind her glasses. Cold and calculating. Her hair was still a bit blonde, but it was graying spider web silver in places. Pretty.

Lori tried to ignore her and stop shifting around in her white uniform. Gab looked at her expectantly. Before they had come out onto the field, in their fencing clothes, he had promised to make it quick. His tone was sympathetic and Lori knew it was genuine.

There was no use in both of them being miserable for too long in this weather (it was hot outside, unspeakably so and standing around in long pants and heavy padding was more than unpleasant), even if Dad felt like tooting his own horn. Gab had been nice to her and forgot about the Houdini escape move from the deepest reaches of the basement. He was her nicer older brother again instead of some hell bent enemy.

She liked him better that way.

Lorian raised her sword and took up the correct posture.

Already Grandmother was frowning as she smoked her cigar.

Too late to worry about it now. The fight started in a swirl of motion. Lori saw him moving around; saw how quickly and artfully he spun the blade. It took less than four moves. She didn't even get to move her feet an inch. Her sword was just batted around and was lost to her fingers, flying up and piercing the ground in less than a minute. He jabbed his own blade, in a quick swipe of movement, and pointed at her heart. He smiled smugly. Finish. Gab was the winner.

But it wasn't over.

Lorian was moving before she was even aware of it. The thirty seconds of silver glittering metal clangs against her blade, each vibration as they clashed; it set something deep roaring. For a moment, the killer that stalked the night, the one that had been nurtured so, came flying out of her carefully guarded depths. The world sharpened and twisted vividly.

Was there a sparkle of red and black?

Gab looked at her puzzled when she leaned back, swaying out of the way of his blade, the smile already starting to rise to her lips. What the heck? This was supposed to be the end of the fight. All experience before told him so. He looked at her like she was crazy as she wove to the left and drew towards him.

Her arm shot out powerfully and she punched him, straight in the cheek. Too stunned to react, his head rocked to the side and he over balanced, falling to the grass with a thud. The sword fell, discarded, as his hands flew out to soften his fall. Lori wasn't done. Her foot found his neck and pressed down on it, choking him for a few seconds before his hands flew back up, grabbed her shoe, and fought against it.

It was a brilliant couple of moments. He held her at bay, his eyes bulging from his head in total disbelief. The killer relished it and pressed down harder, a smirk curling wider onto her lips. It his survival instinct that kept her from choking him, but soon even that would give out. On some level they both understood this as his face paled at the lack of air.

"Lor…ain…?" He strained.

"_Lorian STOP!_"

Her father's scream made her remember herself.

This wasn't how this was supposed to go down.

In a flicker of an instant she lifted her foot and backed away, gawking at Gab down on the ground. He sat up, but stared at her like she was some kind of monster. When she felt the ground quaking to running feet, she looked up and found the same expression of horror on her father's face.

Even Grandmother was stunned.

The cigar just burned in her mouth, her blue eyes wide.

Lori fled.

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She didn't even tare off that damned white uniform. She flew through the halls at full speed to the only safe place where no one could find her. Sitting behind her old hidey-hole, behind the bookcase, she listened to several sets of footsteps come in and out of the library. Someone was screaming in some room. Was it Dad? He sounded pissed.

Lorian hung her head and didn't come out. She looked around at her drawings, her stories, all cluttered and nothing but marks on paper. How long had she abandoned those little comforts? She picked it up again, drawing, drawing Ghouls and Freaks, and pistols blaring because that's what she knew. There would be no talking to Alucard because it was the day.

Five hours after disappearing and when the servants had finally stopped making their scampering visits to the library, looking for her. She realized she couldn't stay in here forever. Sooner or later, she was going to have to leave. She'd have to eat _sometime_. She was starting to feel cramped. She fell asleep instead.

There was no hunting trip that night.

She woke up to the dawn light seeping above on the ceiling and her stomach growling. Surely now, things would've calmed down a bit. Or, maybe everyone was still asleep for the most part. She crawled out and re hid her secret place, frowning a little. It was interesting that Alucard hadn't been able to find her. He usually prodded her, even if she was a sleep, when it was time to go for another lesson, regardless of where she was.

Lorian walked down the hall, used the bathroom, and went to the kitchen, yawning. Her legs were sore from being curled up all night. All they needed was a bit of stretching. The pins and needles ran out of them quick enough. The kitchen was empty. She hunted around in the fridge and poured herself a glass of milk and decided a little toast would be nice. She put two pieces in the toaster, was turning for a plate in the cabinet to the far side of the room-

Someone else had entered.

She felt them, but didn't know who it was. Still, she turned all the way around and found herself less than three feet away from her grandmother, already dressed despite how early it was and looked pressed. For the first time she studied the blue tie around her neck and the tiny silver cross that adorned it. That was, before her cold blue eyes captured her attention.

They were staring right at her.

"Good morning, Lorian."

"Good morning, Grandmother."

Caught, she was caught! She'd get that smoldering angry look any second now. Grandma didn't scold. She just sort of glared at you. She didn't need to scold to get her point across. Lorian made herself stare back, already putting up her emotional defenses for that look of displeasure. There was no escape now. It would be best to get this part over with first anyway.

But her grandmother didn't.

"You've grown since I last saw you." She said instead, and sat down on one of the stools.

Lori watched her warily, but copied her movements submissively. Okay, so she was growing to draw it out. Had she been reading her mind? Lori watched her pick up the cane and put it down on the table as the toaster made the bread in there fly up, done, but it went totally ignored.

"Aren't you going to get that?" She asked, nodding towards the toaster.

"No." Lori replied seriously.

There was no use lying. Even if she did get up and fetch it, she wasn't going to be able to eat it until this experience was over. Her stomach was brimming with butterflies and lurching with apprehension.

There was no displeased frown. For some reason her grandmother found it amusing. Lori felt her jaw trying to unhinge as she not only smiled, but _laughed_ a little too. Laughed. Let me repeat: LAUGHED.

_Oh my God, who is this woman and what did she do with my grandmother?_

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

For Lorian, it happened very fast after that.

By the afternoon she found herself dressed with a suitcase packed with a change of clothes for two days, sitting in her grandmother's limo, sitting _next_ to her while she smoked and talked busily on the car phone. It felt like someone had forced her into an alternate dimension.

Dad hadn't had a chance to scream at her. Grandma just told him she'd be staying with her for the weekend. It was scary and fascinating to watch her father's face turn a shade of purple and his hands to pump like that, open and shut, open and then shut again. Gab looked between her and him, surprised and curious at the situation. It was just as new to him as it was to Lori.

As the two adults battled it out, Lorian packed. Her brother visited in her room and hugged her briefly. Lori stared at him, stunned, even as he backed away a bit and looked self conscious. He offered a little sheepish smile and ruffled her hair a bit, something he never had done before, and even (oh God) looked pleased with her.

"Good luck, Lori." He wished and left the room before it could get more awkward for them.

The awkwardness might have ended for _him_. Lori walked the halls and found people smiling at her everywhere. The servants were grinning and waving in a way that they never did before and wished her well. Lori didn't know weather to wave or nod or what to say. Mom kissed her good-bye, smiling. Dad, even if he was beyond pissed, gave her a little pat on the back before she went.

Walking down the front steps in this weird place that had once been her home, she followed her grandmother to places unknown, unchartered, to the little Hellsing, at the very least. Lori looked back, seeing her family huddled in the door way and waving her farewell. Something else they had never done before.

Yet, as she sat in the car, watching the scenery go by, and she already wanted to go home. Wanted to return to the little secret place behind the bookshelf, curl up and draw. Draw and write her little stories. She wanted target practice and all the quiet lack of attention. This was just far too strange.

But most of all, she wanted to see Alucard.

She was already hurt that he hadn't found her and dragged her off to another hunting lesson. Now, sitting in this blasted car, listening to Sir Hellsing talking on the phone, making plans and arrangements, she knew it would be a few days without him. A few more missed lessons. It was depressing.

But she was a mere child and didn't have a clue as to the extent of him.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

At nightfall, Lorian sat, curled up on her bed and found herself drawing her favorite teacher, in all his glory. Home sick. Very home sick. Why couldn't things be as they were before? This all felt so very wrong.

Grandmother lived in a castle that was even older than her home. It was surprising to learn that this was the real Hellsing castle, passed on to generation through generation. It was also the home of the company and their defenses. Sir Hellsing (that was her title and what she heard from all other mouths there) stood smoking her cigar in the courtyard, beneath the silver sky, in the sun, past the gate and further into the property as Lori held her suitcase and watched the troops, all dressed in their tan combat uniforms, move and behave like a military base.

The girl was always looking around as her grandmother just walked past it all, not so curious. After all, she lived with the constant gunfire and smoke. Lori followed her in and found more people moving about busily inside as well as outside. People with files who stopped and spoke to other people, referring to things that Lori didn't have a clue about before nodding to each other and flying off again. They were flowing in and out of sight. Lori could imagine that they behaved much like bees, of course, _before_ they went extinct.

Grandma passed by it all, only talking to those that sort of swooped in and buzzed her with a question. She'd answer coldly and they'd fly off to do whatever it dealt with. Lorian kept her head down after the first five minutes of confused and doubting looks until they escaped that room and into one of the less busy hallways. Then it was staring out the windows they passed and admiring the scenery.

Her grandmother went back to her paper work when Lori was given two hours to settle in. She was taken to her room by one of the butlers and unpacked, but not before admiring the place. Old, yes, but it was very comfortable and made to be pleasing to the eyes. Royal in a way that was more than home. The bed sheets had fancy patterns and the rugs soft and the tapestries were adorned with crests she didn't know.

It took her ten minutes to unpack. Then she cat-napped for another thirty. After that, she sat on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest and staring out the window, staring at the forever clear silver sky. Waiting for something to happen. Or trying to figure out why this was happening to her. Hadn't she cheated? Wasn't this a reward for cheating in a fight? What was her grandmother thinking?

Lori found she missed her gun.

Finally, a while later, the butler came back and told her Sir Hellsing wished to see her. Lorian nodded and got off the bed. Followed dutifully back to her office, where her grandmother sat with her fingers curled loosely and her elbows on the desk top. She didn't smile when Lori came in, but still she could see her blue eyes weren't so icy.

It was almost creepy.

"Well, since we saw what you could do with a sword, let's see if you're any better with a gun." Was all she said, getting out of the chair.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

So in the afternoon Lori found herself standing in another shooting gallery much like the one at home, a pistol in her grasp, and aiming at one of the paper targets. The presence of the Knight behind her was too hard to ignore. She could feel those two wise, devious, and watching eyes on her back and her hands. She tried not to let it bother her. This was still a trial bases. She passed some sort of weird sub-test. Now, this seemed to be apart of the real one. Lori thought about this, closing one eye and taking careful aim. So there was still a chance that all this madness could end. All she had to do was try her best. Then, they'd see she was a failure, like her parents had known, like _everyone_ had known all along, and then she'd get the displeased look and be sent home. Maybe even before nightfall.

Piece of cake.

Lori could see it. Herself, sitting on her own bed, clicking a fresh clip full of silver rounds into her favorite pistol, getting ready for the night. Alucard coming through the wall, smiling, and asking her if she wasn't going to be so damn trouble-some tonight and actually shoot like she meant it. If she could just take care of herself dodge the _damn_ bullets this time. He didn't need to be running around taking metal for her at every possible second of the night; it ruined his fun.

She could see him saying these things, teasing, his mouth opening and closing. His teeth as sharp as ever. He was speaking in her head, his voice burned in her memory.

_Aim for the head _and _heart, you dolt, and get it right this time._

Two shots rang out.

Lori lowered the pistol, a wisp of gray smoke escaping the barrel, and looked at the target paper. One bullet hole in the chest and the other smack dab in the center of the head of humanoid black shadow. She smiled, pleased for a moment. _There, you bloodsucking perfectionist_, she thought to herself, or to the Alucard her mind had made believe was standing next to her. Teaching.

It took her a minute to remember where she was.

"Good." Her grandmother said.

The smile vanished from Lori's face.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Now she sat, doodling, after a long afternoon of learning about firearms and how to use them. A while of listening to her teacher's dark voice, somehow it became a very animated and strange puppet for her imagination to use as she proceeded to look like an idiot trying to work with the odd button or voice commanded triggers of some of the newer weapons.

The recoil of the rocket launcher had been the most exciting and frightening. The boom of the shell hitting the far wall made her blood burn, but all the white faces from the men passing by were embarrassing. So she missed by twelve feet and nearly blew a hole in the combat room, no body got hurt…

And despite all her screwing up, she was still here! Worse. It seemed Grandma was calling Dad back up and telling him to pack more clothes because her 'visit' was being extended for a few more days. How long? Maybe a week or two. And tomorrow? They were moving a little away from weapons and were going to see how her mind was.

Lori sighed, and fixed the shape of her teacher's penciled in hat. He stood on the paper, grinning (it was burned permanently into her mind) holding out his pistol and firing it from a side angle. His face was darkened black, hidden by shadow, and his glasses were winking moonlight above his pulled up collar.

"That could use more shading." His voice suddenly rang out.

Lori thought it was imagination at work until one white gloved finger tapped the drawn jacket on her page. When it withdrew, her eyes followed it, flew up and found him standing at the end of her bed, dressed as he was always dressed. She couldn't keep the smile off her face despite being shocked.

"What are you _doing_ here!"

"You're not going to get two nights off in a row. I don't care where you went or _what _happened. Now get up and get dressed." He said, ignoring her question.

After all, what did it _look_ like he was doing? He stood, holding her gun by the barrel, and waved it slightly as he spoke. Seemed eager to give it back to her and be off, despite the annoyance in his voice.

Lori stared at him, incredulous, but did as she was told.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X


	6. Chapter 6

Book Dragon: "Thanks goes out to pruningshears, Fruityone, KrysSaiyan, blazingfirewolf, and Lord Makura for reviewing last chapter. Thank you everyone who's given support. A note (for anyone who bothers to read this) yes, there will be more characters appearing… I don't own Hellsing (and never will). On with the chapter!"

Chapter 6

A new part of town to see, the blood splatter was chaotic. And what she needed. It was nice to forget who you were for a little while. The Ghouls were starting to escape down the street, but she planted a few bullets in the correct places. Head and Heart. A lovely combination. Her gun clicked, declaring itself empty. She dug out a new clip and slammed it home and had some more target practice while listening to Alucard blast things apart.

"Get back here, bastard!"

Lorian turned to see what he was snarling about. Instead of him she found the vampire in question flying towards her. This had never happened before. She swirled the gun around on him, but was far too slow. He grabbed her by the shoulder and lifted her up, off the ground. The gun went off, but only buzzed meaninglessly over his shoulder and into the pavement. He batted it away, out of her hand, a lanky kid maybe eighteen when he was twisted and turned, laughing at her and opening his mouth to claim her as the gun clanked on the ground.

Dangling before him by her shirt, she raised one hand and clawed his face, snarling and kicking him. Most of it was useless, just meant to buy a little time. Still, the expression was hilarious. He'd never been clawed like that before, and he looked stunned, the nail marks streaking across his face, but only for a moment before the skin began to stitch back together. She was swinging her leg to kick him again when Alucard came up behind him.

The look on his face made her freeze.

He wasn't smiling. He looked pissed off. It distorted the grin on his face and made it look like a snarl. He around about, fast, in a flicker of a second and grasped the little vampire's arm. It came off with a simple tug of his fingers, severed from the elbow down.

Lorian found herself falling, and landed hard on her feet, gritting her teeth against the sudden flare of pain, but ignored it. The limb went unseen as it uncurled its fingers from her shirt and hit the ground with a morbid thud, twitching a bit, but calming as the blood oozed out of it. Her feet were moving, closing the distance was closing between herself and her weapon, but her eyes were glued to the sequence of events.

The punk went flying off into the wall face first as her fingers numbly picked up her pistol. The little vampire slammed into it hard enough to break his nose and jaw. Not that he felt it. He didn't even have long to slide down the wall before a rain of black smashed into him like a wave. Not bullets. Lori stared, almost unable to believe that her teacher's arms had twisted out of human form, twisted to glistening black.

Her had face turned white.

Yes, she had heard of this, read of this, and knew vampires changed their shape. Dogs, bats, rats, and even fog, but she never thought it would've been like _this_. She stood, watching as his hands morphed and formed duel dog heads, heads with six glowing crimson eyes, grew and opened their mouths wide. His face began to distort before she hurriedly looked away. If she kept watching, she'd surely scream.

For several minutes, she listened to nothing but bone crunching and flesh ripping.

When it was over, the noise gone, she turned back warily. He stood, back to human outline, but he still wasn't himself. Her teacher was gone. The Monster had come back, even as he glared at her behind his specs. He turned swiftly enough for her to draw her gun, startled. He matched her draw.

"Don't _do_ that again!" He snarled inhumanly.

His teeth were still too large of his mouth to speak properly, all of them; it was like looking into the mouth of a barracuda. The act of speaking made them pierce and rip the skin in places, making the blood ooze out like black ink down his chin, his lava red eyes burning above.

They stood, pointing their guns at each other. She stared at him, forcing herself to go beyond and let the killer within rule out. He'd see it if she filled herself with doubts. If he wanted to load her full of bullets, she'd deal him as much retaliation as she could before going down because that's what he would've wanted from her.

Still, she was scared and it hurt.

Finally, thankfully, he lowered his pistol. His face twisted back to that of her teacher's. Human, a bit handsome, but her teacher's none the less. Lori's arms came down at a swing, gun pointing to the pavement. She continued to stare at him, occasional tremors running through her legs. He looked away and back to…what was left of the body… and kicked it before turning and leaving. She could already hear the sirens coming, police on the way, so she followed, but not too closely.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Later they were in the graveyard and she was sitting on a tombstone, cleaning her pistol. She did this slowly and methodically, not really paying attention. She was more focused on where her teacher was standing and where he went. He'd calmed down a bit, sucking on a blood packet labeled AB positive, but whatever had pissed him off was still there, lurking beneath his visage.

Part of her wanted to ask him for a sip of it, the blood. This thought had swum through her mind on several occasions while he fed, but never had she been so close to asking. The curiosity of its taste wasn't the reason. Nor was fear. Despite the raging monster she had witnessed, there was still little fear to be felt towards him, even now. It surprised her. No, there was a bit of wariness, but not horrific fear. This feeling was something else.

She wanted to please him.

The thought of sharing blood with him made her think of all the little boys that sit with their fathers and tried to copy their habits. 'I wanna be just like you daddy!' they intone, after fumbling attempts, and their hair would be ruffled affectionately by a large warm hand or a hug or a proud and flattered smile.

Oh God, did she really think of him as a father figure?

"…I'm sorry." She said instead.

"Forget it." He said coldly.

They said nothing for about an hour, not going home, but star gazing for a while. The moon was loosing its fullness again. Still, she could see all its craters and its interesting gray patches. What would it be like to walk up there, on its white powdered surface and feel the rock gravel beneath her soles? She wondered dully behind the discontent. It didn't over shadow it.

"…Are you going to tell me what I did wrong?" She asked, after she put her beloved weapon back together and returned it to her pocket.

"No. Shut up." He snarled.

Lori closed her mouth and stared at her feet, hanging her head. Testy. Very agitated. It was pretty bad. She'd never seen him like this at all. He'd even put his gun away and was just standing there with his arms folded meaningfully across his chest, his back to her, packet nothing but warped empty plastic on the ground now. Then again, she'd never seen him twist so easily out of shape like that either…

He looked like he could've stood like that all night, but suddenly he twisted around and snarled at her.

"And would you stop being so damn obedient!"

"Stop yelling at me! I can't help it!" She shouted back at him.

He gritted his teeth, but he did close his mouth. He turned back around and looked at the surrounding buildings for the third time. Another few minutes passed and she was still trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him. It was just bizarre, and how did he expect her to not do something again if she didn't even know what it was?

"You're the master." He muttered.

_That's it!_

Lori pulled off her shoe and chucked it at the back of his head in a childish tantrum. It connected and hit home, but he didn't turn around or yell. He ignored her. If he had done either of those things, she would've reloaded the gun and put the whole clip in his head.

"I AM NOT!" She howled at the top of her lungs, instead when he continued to do nothing.

"STOP CALLING ME THAT! YOU'RE THE MASTER, DAMN

IT!"

Lorian regretted the words once they flew to the open air and would've loved to take them back. She knew they'd only put him in a worse mood that before.

There was an uneven silence.

He turned his head half way around so only one blood red eye could look at her coolly out of the corner of his glasses beneath that hat of his. It was steady. Almost hypnotic. Did something change in the air? All of a sudden her mouth closed up tight and she hunched her shoulders against it, steeling herself, whatever it was.

"_What_ did you call me?" His voice was dangerously soft.

"Master." She told him evenly.

Made herself stare right at him. He had told her to stop being obedient, but she couldn't quite help it. Was he angry? Was he furious? For once she really couldn't tell. All she did was heave an even breath and talk as slowly and as calmly as she possibly could. Yes, he was a blood craving killer and yes he could tare her to pieces if he really wanted to. Master or no master. He'd proven that tonight with his…change.

Besides, there were other masters. Many other candidates to pick from.

"I'm not your master, Teacher. I'm your student." She replied, aware of her precarious position. It wasn't what he'd like to hear, but she wasn't going to lie.

Aware, also, of that trained destroyer lurking behind that steady staring crimson eye. That he could shift and distort himself and eat her, if he liked. Animality ran through his veins. It was his nature. He was a vampire, after all. There was no changing the nature of a vampire. Of course he was, he was the one that had awakened her own murderous side; how could she _not_ see it?

There was no changing the nature of anything, really.

No matter what meaningless titles you gave them.

He continued to look at her and said nothing for a while. Then, finally, he turned back around and started to walk away.

"It'll have to do for now." He said, but what he meant she wasn't exactly sure. Was it what she had said or the fact that she had countered him at all? She didn't know, and it really didn't matter.

Later, she lay in bed, hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure it out. To step out of herself and step into his head, if only for a second. What does a vampire think about all the time? Well, what does a vampire like _Alucard _think about? Could she possibly comprehend it? A world seen from a beast that felt no pain what so ever?

Lori slept and dreamed.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

A week past.

She felt like she was going to die. School _before_ had been hard? She sat in a room for six hours and tried to wrap her brain around what all the instructors were telling her. Posed questions and still was having a rough time. And fencing was tiring before? It ran two hours longer because she was lacking in it and needed to get better.

And when night fell and she flopped onto her bed, ready to fall asleep right there, who comes in and shakes her awake? About three hours of a midnight barrage of gunfire and she comes back to sleep at two in the morning, only to wake up four hours later at six to go around the whole damn cycle again.

Luckily, her meals were an hour long each, so if she ate quickly she could catch some Zs for about forty-five minutes at least three times. So, what was that exactly? Two hours or so of extra sleep? She was still hours shy of eight, damn it! Some how she persisted, moving through each day. One step at a time, they said, somewhere. Maybe it was target practice. She could shoot the targets in her sleep.

Sometimes she wondered if she did; the experience was sometimes a blur.

And the clothes her family sent?

Skirts and dresses.

Lorian had stared at the inside of the suitcase that was sent with horror and wanted to bang her head against the wall in complete and utter frustration. Every time she got blood on her clothes, she either had to throw them out or spend another hour that she could've been sleeping trying to scrub the stains off them, Alucard laughing at her the whole time. She couldn't keep them. What if someone found them?

Of course, her teacher was a little pissed when she threw out all her jeans and had to go running around in a skirt one night.

"Would you hurry up?" He asked for the third time.

"I can't!" She snarled again. The stupid black thing was constricting. She couldn't reach her maximum leg stride and therefore running was not an option.

Finally, after being grazed by a bullet on the left shoulder from being way too slow, she lost her temper and ripped most of it off. It had been long, but her fingers tore through it and made it end above her knee in a ragged line. Hearing it tare, being able to move again was joyous and blasting apart some Ghoul's head was more pleasurable than it had been.

Of course, the look on Alucard's face afterward was embarrassing.

He proceeded to take his coat off and hand it to her, not looking at her at all.

"Cover yourself up please." He said through the side of his mouth, annoyed.

Instead of allowing herself to blush at the humiliation she scowled and did as she was told, putting his jacket on and holding it firmly shut as they walked. What was more annoying was she couldn't help realizing the pleasant smell coming off of it did not belong to the jacket, but had rubbed off of its owner.

"Why the hell did you have to wear that _thing_?"

"I had to throw out all my pants. It was either that or some dinner party dress. I know what you're going to say, 'why don't you buy some new clothes?' Well, I can't just keep asking for new clothes or somebody is going to get suspicious."

"That's not what I was going to say." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh yeah?"

"I would've told you to steal some." Lori covered her eyes and sighed.

"You aren't much of a role model, you know that?"

For a while they didn't say anything. It was a peaceful sort of night, even if it was clouding up and starting to rain. She was thinking too much of how utterly cool it felt, wearing a jacket that was at least two times her size. The ends of it were dragging on the sidewalk under her feet and she was literary swimming in it, but she still felt the way she felt. She must have looked ridiculous. It was childish, but it felt good none the less.

Lori couldn't help herself much.

"I wish I had a jacket like this." She said with longing.

"Then ask for one." He retorted, shaking his head. "If you want something, stop dancing around it and just ask for it."

She considered it. They continued to walk. It was so dark out. Peaceful. She felt unafraid of it, walking next to him. The lack of fear made her a little bolder than usual, and she spoke her mind a little more. If he laughed at her? He laughed at every clumsy move she made. She was use to it now, and it no longer hurt her. It was just the way he acted.

There had been a question that had been nagging at her for a while now that she finally felt she could ask, relaxed for the moment.

"Why do you kill your own kind?" She inquired.

"Because they're nothing but fools. Scum. They have no control and kill when ever the feeling hits them. Like stupid beasts. Consider it survival of the fittest." He said, not bothering to look at her. He looked a little funny without his jacket on, hands in his pockets and glasses glinting. His retort still didn't make too much sense to her, but she nodded, satisfied with his answer.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Saturday and trapped in another damn skirt for the fifth day that week, speed walking down the hall because she simply couldn't take it anymore. Never in a million years would she have gotten up the courage to do anything about it, but a troop of boys her age and older changed that. Too many God damn nasty comments! Her lips were twitching and her face was still glowing red.

_If you want something, just ask for it._

That's what the Alucard in her head said. Or repeated.

Her mind had a tendency to make him mutter there often now, not in target practice, but more than half the time. He was talking even as she curled her fingers around the door and opened it, despite the butler, a rather tall fellow in a black vest with graying brown hair with equally intelligent brown eyes, trying to tell her something. Send her away. Her face just hardened. No, this couldn't wait any longer. If she waited, she'd go chicken shit and that would be that.

So the door opened and she walked briskly into a room with the biggest table she'd ever laid eyes on. She was two feet in before she could stop herself. The conversation that had been subtle stopped altogether and she found eleven strange pairs of eyes staring at her. The different types of cigar-smoke mingled and created thick, but exotic smells that tickled her nose. Even under the sudden stress of the situation she couldn't help but notice.

"Yes?" one of those men asked.

Lori stared at him. Opened her mouth. Shut it. Tried again. Nothing would come out of her throat. She could feel her face starting to heat up in embarrassment. This had been stupid. Why had she been so hell bent to come flying in here like a bat out of hell? Now she appeared to be a moronic fool, or a goldfish in a bowl, opening and closing her mouth. Unable to say 'good afternoon' or anything polite or witty in the least. Why did she have to be such a-

"Is that you're granddaughter?" Another of them asked, a tall man with glasses and a mustache. His poise reeked of sophistication and intelligence. Gray haired he seemed just as sharp as her grandmother and maybe even older than her.

"Yes, it is. What can I do for you, Lorian?"

Lorian turned and found a familiar pair of cold blue eyes looking at her expectantly from the end of the table to her left. She sat in her usual business suit, smoking her own cigar and had a pile of papers before her. They looked important, but the girl didn't allow her eyes to linger too long. That would be eavesdropping. Still, there were photos of dead Ghouls to go with this paperwork that were fascinating.

And familiar.

"I-I'm sorry. I di-didn't mean to interrupt." Lori stuttered, "I'll come back when you're not busy-" She attempted to edge out the door.

"No, you have my attention now. What is it?"

Lori tried to ignore the eleven other pairs of eyes on her and to stop fidgeting her hands. Just focusing on her grandmother was enough of a task. She was clearly annoyed, her blue eyes sparkling in a way that meant they were ready to dish out whatever bullshit you were going to try tenfold. Her tongue wouldn't work. It was hell. That displeased look was settling on her visage.

_Talk already, novice._ Alucard said in her mind.

"It's my wardrobe." One eyebrow lifted above the rim of her glasses.

"What about it?" Her throat was closing. It would shut and she'd be a mute idiot in a minute.

"I want pants!" She yelled, pulling it out before her mouth could shut like a steel trap. No one said anything. There was just a bunch of staring eyes on her, no sign what so ever as to what they were thinking. Were they annoyed? Did they think she was stupid? Could they just stop staring like that, for the love of-

Then the older gentleman laughed.

Lori's eyes shot to him, startled. It wasn't a mocking laugh. It was amused. His eyes were twinkling in a way that showed it. She blinked at him, anxious, and thought she might have caught another snicker from somewhere. Someone else put a hand over his mouth. Her face was starting to sink. Oh God, they were laughing at her anyway. She turned her eyes and found Grandma's face a bit stony, and she opened her mouth to speak but the other gent got there first.

"I feel for you, Miss. I got stuck wearing a kilt once." He said consolingly.

All the eyes in the room shifted to him, stunned.

"Yep. I'd never have that experience forced on anyone ever again. Not even as a torture device. I have no idea how you ladies do it every day. My God, it _chaffed_." To further his point, he winced.

Complete and utter silence met this.

Then half the men in the room started laughing.

Even her grandmother was smiling a little now.

Lori stared at them all, surprised, and was finding her own little sheepish and embarrassed smile edging onto her lips. She gave him a grateful look because he saved her from all humiliation that had been threatening to break down on her head.

And she got what she wanted.

"Alright Lorian, we'll get you some pants later, since Sir Archer seems to think it is of the greatest importance." Sir Hellsing said, but she was smiling to show it was not ill meant.

The older gentlemen smiled back at Sir Hellsing to show he understood. Lori smiled at both of them, nervously, and bowed once. Then thought better of it and curtseyed, feeling a bit more like an idiot, but judging from the looks on their faces, they weren't going to burn her at the stake for it. It didn't seem to mean hearted to her when they laughed.

"Thank you very much. Um. It was very nice meeting you all." She curtseyed again before backing out of the room.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Less than a day later she found all her skirts and dresses had been shoved to the less used side of her closet. What hung in their place was ten pairs of jeans, five pairs of dress slacks, and two full piece business suits that were her size and royal blue in color. There was a note pined to one of them and she pulled it out, curiously.

_And I suppose you hate dresses too. I do._

That's all it read.

She smiled and folded it, almost prissily. It was special. She had to save it. So she changed into a pair of her new jeans, feeling in total bliss, and found a safe place to keep such a little note. It would be a prized memory. One of the few times she didn't screw up in her little life and her grandmother did something like this.

Rummaging around the closet, behind her old clothes, something was peeking out of the back. She froze for a moment, curious, before sweeping everything out of the way. In the dark shadow of the closest, hiding there, her fingers reached in and pulled out something that she had mistaken as a dress.

Out it came, ebony black in color with buttons and long sleeves. There was a little belt around the waist, but she was never going to use it. The liner was a gray color and soft to the touch. There was a few inside pockets. One was definitely big enough to hold a regular sized pistol.

Lori put it on and stood in front of the mirror and looked at herself. The trench coat was a bit too big, its ends touched the floor every so slightly, but she loved it on sight. The buttons, the way the collar flapped up, the feel of it pressed on her skin and the way the ends of the sleeves brushed against her wrists. She shoved her hands in her pockets and couldn't keep the pleased grin off her face.

Her heart soared.

There was no need for a note to explain this gift.

_You should've asked, dolt._

"Okay, teacher. I get it." She muttered to herself, but she was smiling.

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	7. Chapter 7

Book Dragon: "Appreciation goes out to Dark Helix, Lord Makura, pruningshears, and J Luc Pitard for reviewing the last chapter. As always, I thank anyone who has reviewed this story. I don't know Hellsing at all, and it's time for the next chapter."

Chapter 7

Things were better for the next three days.

It was her second week and she expected to be going home soon. At least for a little while. Grandma had told her father it would be two weeks. And yet, she found herself biting her lip, lost in thought about it. Grandma had bought her clothes. To wear. Here. Enough pants so she didn't have to wear a new pair of more than a week if she thought fit to.

So…what did that mean?

_Easy, you're past trial basis and you're officially going to be Heir._ The Alucard in her mind replied swiftly enough.

This thought scared her, but the more and more she looked around, the more and more true it was becoming. Why were they suddenly quizzing her in politics if she wasn't going to have any use for it? And why were all these etiquette manners, way of dress, and learning how to dance so suddenly very important?

Were they all crazy? The insane urge to grab the old woman, scary woman of steel who could have your ass in a sling, family or no family, by the shoulders and shake her, yelling 'HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND!' was growing steadily each and every day.

Not that Lori was bold enough to do it.

Feverishly sketching again. It would go with all the other draws and the special note under the loose floor board she had found. Eyes staring from the dark and reaching fingers. Plenty of stick figures chasing each other. Was that one wearing a cowboy hat? She wasn't certain. Her hands just moved and the pencil did as it saw fit, and the drawing was obscure. And what the hell was with all the damn crosses all of a sudden?

She was leaning closer, looking at the details unraveling themselves from the air, concerned, when a shout rang out. A wild line scarred the drawing as she flinched, sat up, and looked at the door like a hunted animal. No one came bursting in. Still, she dropped the pencil and folded the paper up quick, ran to the bed and practically dove under it.

After the drawing was hidden for five minutes, she began to feel like she was paranoid. No other shouting rang out. Had it been her grandmother after all? What kind of scream _had_ it been? Outrage or fear? She looked out the window and still found the sun up, huge and golden. It made her frown. She wanted to put on her jacket and stake out the place. And kill something if the chance presented itself.

Finally, curiosity won out.

Too many questions would be asked if she had the coat, but if she was carrying the gun, she could claim she was coming from the shooting gallery and, being too excited to ask a question, forgot she was carrying it. She nodded to herself as she thought up this story, shoving two clips in her pocket. Just in case. This felt a little fishy.

Lori ran into no one in the halls. It was a relief. She was checking open doors and leaning her ear against closed ones when she thought she came into range where the scream might have came from. Her ear even pressed against the door to her Grandmother's office.

And she heard voices.

"-hardly think you should be making threats, _Sir_ Integra Hellsing. We haven't done anything that you're suggesting, nor do we like to be insulted."

"Stop playing innocent, _Maxwell_. You know it's a treaty violation. You seemed to never have had any respect for those, not even in the old days. Don't insult my intelligence."

This was something she shouldn't be hearing-

"We're aware this is your territory. We have _not_ breached the treaty. We haven't even set foot _in_ your field. If anything, the work looks far too familiar for my taste. Now, you wouldn't have disobeyed a royal order, would you, Integra? Are you sure you disposed of him properly-?"

"You _dare_ bring that up!"

"Well, with your new Heir, I couldn't help but think that-"

"What does she have to do with any of this!"

Lori pulled away from the door like it had suddenly grown fangs.

New Heir!

And even worse, where they talking about what she _thought_ they were talking about? Her eyes turned vague as she tried to remember exactly what was on those photographs from the other day. Had they looked familiar because it had been the result of one of her teacher's hunting lessons?

Lorian backed away from the door. Managed to creep away from it before letting herself fly into a full out sprint, arms pumping and the gun flying up and down in her grasp. She ignored it. It was like being crushed. So much weight was now sitting on her shoulders, threatening to crash down on her and just break her spine. She had to escape it.

They all thought she was something she was not. Why did they believe it? Lori knew she couldn't do it. It simply wasn't in her. She couldn't see herself sitting at the head of that long table, talking and shuffling through papers. There was no way she could lead troops into battle.

It just wasn't in her nature.

She crashed back into her room, panic singing in her veins. Stood there for a full minute, panting, trying to decide what she was going to do. Couldn't stay. No. If she stayed, then they'd force her and she'd disgrace her family. Couldn't live with that. So what did that leave? She looked out at the sun, and found it still afternoon. Only about fifteen minutes had passed since the last time she looked.

Plenty of time.

Lori made herself take calm breathes and let the cold-blooded killer out for a moment, just so she could think this out properly. To make things even easier, she hefted the gun and pointed it to the wall, closing one eye. Everything slowed down and the methodical clicking began. It was slow, but the steps revealed themselves and she formed a plan.

When she was done, she put the gun on the bed and grabbed the suitcase out of the closet.

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By four, she was walking down the street in the afternoon light, trench coat dawned, suitcase in one hand, and the pistol with four clips pressing against her right breast. It was a reassuring feeling, knowing it was there every time she turned. At first, she thought she would've never gotten past security and even her invented story, though elaborate, seemed flimsy.

It turned out to be paranoia. All she did was smile and nodded, talk in a voice that was a tad too high. Told them she was going home for a bit and called a taxi to pick her up in the city (she wanted to get a walk in and some of the scenery before she went and who knows? Maybe she'd find something Gab might like…)

And they bought it.

Lorian was in a state of disbelief as she walked cross the street and out of sight. Fought back the urge to turn and look at them, just to make sure they believed it. She simply could not trust her good fortune, even as she got into town. She expected to see her Grandmother and a bunch of men dressed in uniform come around the corner and say something like 'there she is' or 'what are you doing out here?'

But no such thing happened.

At dusk, she bought a bus ticket to the coast. From there? She didn't know yet, all though, she was entertaining ideas of getting a ferry or a ship of some kind to travel to Ireland. How far away was Ireland, exactly? She didn't know, despite all her history war lessons; she was always terrible with maps.

The freedom she felt was nearly indescribable. So was the fear. She couldn't stop looking around at people, studying what they were doing, and trying to copy them. Trying to blend in. No one seemed to pay her any attention, so, whatever she was doing, it seemed to be working. She settled down in her chair and pulled out the sketch pad from her pocket, glancing out the window. No one. Coast was still clear. She was edgy, still ready for that last soul to come running up to the bus station and try to stop her.

But they started moving. Lori watched the station sink back and disappear behind an array of buildings. Swallowed up. Gone. An hour or so later, she was out in the country and watched the city fade into the dark, becoming smaller and smaller until the trees and the fields dominated the area. The coast was coming. It was black outside and she couldn't see from the glare of the lights.

Lorian sketched and lost herself for a time. That nervous twinge never left her chest, no matter how much distance she put between her and the city. She suspected it wouldn't go away entirely until she had left England all together. It was bleak looking. Could she actually manage it? She hoped so because there was no turning back now.

No more weapon training. No more lessons about politics. No more remembering long winded battles from all centuries. No more mythology. No more displeased looks or strange winding halls. The crushing weight of trying to be something she wasn't-gone-batted away like a stray piece of paper in a gust. Something she could ever be? Soon there would be no worry.

_And the hunting trips?_

This made her frown.

There were plenty of ghouls in the world, she supposed. Plenty of Freaks and vampires. She also thought there were many more human agencies that dealt with that sort of thing, judging from the discussion she over heard. If she really wanted to go hunting, she could manage it once or twice in a long while. That would have to be it. Any more and she'd get caught.

But for now? She had to get out of London. They'd be scrambling about trying to find her before too long. Had to get out of the country. After that, she could make up a name and disappear deeper into Europe.

Out of sight, out of mind.

She hoped.

Alucard was the real problem.

She shaded a spot in the window and peered out it, hoping to God not to see a red trench coat and a huge hat. She hoped the day light had given her enough time to elude him, but she wasn't sure. He'd followed her before when she'd left during the day. Daylight didn't seem to give him much of a problem. Was it sense of smell? She hoped all the people would muffle her scent. Some how.

Two in the morning and she was still awake after the driver had turned the lights out. Wide awake. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't draw. All she could do was glance out the window nervously, praying that he wouldn't follow. Couldn't follow. Flashes of him stopping the bus and getting on it and dragging her off kept haunting her every thought.

It gave her a long time to think things through, even if the fear of being caught kept nagging her. Her mind kept straying to him and the over heard conversation. Looked familiar. Alucard had been killing the vampires; she had been put on ghoul patrol until he felt she was more suited. So he had been doing this for a long time, if his handy work was recognized, as the man (what was his name? Maxwell. Right.) had said.

Why the hell did Maxwell believe that her grandmother had anything to do with it? Wasn't their family _supposed_ to be killing _all_ vampires? Even the ones that were turning around the killing their own kind? Wasn't the goal to rid the earth of them all? She sat there and felt a little ashamed at growing so friendly with him. See? More proof she wasn't a Hellsing at all.

But they had referred to a 'he'.

Mistaken identity? Or, maybe, Alucard had used to work for her grandmother and had been turned _into_ a vampire? They said vampires could only reproduce by biting a virgin of the opposite sex, so why couldn't he have been bitten by some powerful female or something? It would explain why her grandmother's outrage at Maxwell's questions. It was easy to see she cared about what happened to her men.

It also explained why Alucard was so good at what he did. Why he was locked away in their basement too. He had been sleeping, right? It explained why he didn't want to bite her. Had her grandmother not done him a favor? Cared about what happened to him? Didn't want to see him killed like a dog to a silver laced bullet?

But then, he was a _hell_ of a lot harder to kill than a regular vampire.

Maybe she did it for both of their goods, somehow?

It was all crazy musings.

Lori fell asleep trying to figure it out.

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The morning proved foggy. The bus stopped at a gas station and many of them got off to use the facilities. She woke up with a start. It was the red-eyes dream. She hadn't had it for a long time, and its sudden reappearance was disturbing. Running. They-eyes- bloomed like roses in the twilight, all around her and there was this frantic yelling, but she woke before the words could be fathomed.

Woke, groggily, in time to hear that announcement, lucky, and didn't have to have a panic attack wondering where the hell everyone had gone. It was nice. She stayed slouched in her chair, collecting herself; collar pulled up and let herself wake up gradually instead of all at once-

Did he just look at her?

Lori sat up a bit straighter. She stared at the back of the head of the man she thought had turned his head. He was a blonde and she could see the ends of a pair of glasses clinging to the backs of his ears. His coat was gray and it left his neck exposed, from what she could see, sitting behind him. That was all she could tell, other than he was sitting about three seats up.

_Had_ his head really turned?

She sank a tad lower in her chair; cutting off the view she had of him deciding she was definitely paranoid. Decided that, if she had enough money, she was going to buy a hat no matter how stupidly frivolous it was, if not just to block people from her sight. Something with a wide brim, perhaps. Still, she was uneasy.

She touched the gun in her pocket, loaded, and felt a little better.

Considered buying breakfast or something. Her stomach soured at the thought of food. Fine then. She'd get something later. Leaned her head against the window and sighed, watching the people talk and go about their business. In the corner of her eye, she thought she saw movement, but resisted the urge to give into that childish feeling. He probably wasn't looking.

It was probably just her imagination.

Lori straightened her jacket, feeling the weight of the pistol again.

It was a comfort.

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The odd man didn't make a move until after she had left the bus that afternoon for lunch. It was two hours to the coast, but she couldn't go without eating. She was starting to get light headed. So she bought a bottle of soda and a prewrapped sandwich as they stopped at another convenience store. The food wasn't too bad, but she wasn't bothering to taste it either. Down the hatch it went in a snap.

Lori was sitting on the bench, doing this because you weren't allowed to have food on the bus, with a bowed head, trying not to think too much. Felt the bench give to extra weight next to her. She controlled herself. Didn't look up too quickly. It was a slow and casual thing, or so she tried to make it look like.

It was Blondie, hands followed in his lap and looking up at the cloudy day. He did wear glasses. Beneath them were two very green eyes. He had a five o'clock shadow and a bit of a tan. He wore gloves, and it looked like something might have been written on them, but he moved his hands out of view and she suddenly felt him staring.

She gave him a shy glance.

He said something. For a moment, she thought she wasn't going to be able to catch what it was beneath his heavy accent. It made her blink and she focused her ears harder to understand.

"It looks like it's gonna rain." He said and she translated in her head. Clearly an Irish accent. Heavy, maybe from Dublin or something. Was he going back home? She spared a glance for sky and nodded.

"Yes." She agreed cautiously.

He seemed harmless enough, looking up at the soft grays smiling a little. Still, she had never been comfortable around strangers. Already she was painfully aware of how close he was sitting and would've liked to get up and stand. She didn't. That was usually considered insulting.

"So where are you going, all by yourself?" He asked. It took her a minute to get it all clear.

"I'm visiting my grandfather in Rome for the first time." She invented.

"Oh, Aye. Rather brave child to be riding on the bus all by yourself."

"I wanted to see a little more of home before I left. I get home sick rather easily." She told him, trying to explain her business of being on the bus at all. Maybe it was stupid. He nodded, still not looking at her. Didn't make any sort of argument. Yet, she still felt very uneasy.

"So I suppose you have your passport all squared away and your parents phoned ahead. A great big welcoming party, I can see it."

Passport? What was a passport? She opened her mouth to ask, but then closed it with a click. No, best not. He assumed she had one, so she must at least pretend to know what it meant. Her mind brushed over their conversation so far and left a little uneasy. _Oh God, did I have to get one of those to be able to leave?_ She shifted uncomfortably on the bench, sitting on her hands. Did it just get chillier out here?

"Of course, I work at an orphanage. You'd be surprised how many of them think about leaving the country at thirteen, get to the coast and find they can't go because they don't have a passport. You wouldn't happen to be one of _those_ children, would yah?"

Lori could not help but stare at him.

He let out a little sigh.

"I thought so. Well, why don't you at least tell me what your story is-?"

"I didn't tell you my age."

Lorian watched him stiffen, slightly, before he casually leaned forward and looked at her, smiling still. Alarm bells were roaring in her head. This guy was dangerous. Her eyes flicked down to one glove he put on the bench, in black ink were the words. _Jesus Christ is in Heaven now_ around a cross. When he smiled, she forced herself to smile back despite the urge to just turn and run.

From the little white collar, it was easy to see he was a priest.

Or pretending to be.

"I guessed. I've seen enough thirteen-year-olds to tell them apart from twelve or fourteen-year-olds. Still, there are some that I don't get right off the bat. I got lucky."

There was no where to run. If she ran, she'd leave the safety of the crowd. It would be too easy to follow her, out here in the middle of no where, hunt her down and…well. She wasn't going to scare herself anymore than she had to. Was he even a real priest or was he using that as some sort of cover? He was pleasant enough, but beneath? It felt like he wanted to do her some harm.

Lori fought the urge to go for her gun. Too many people. He was a human being as well; there was that to think about. She didn't want to be a murderer unless he forced her to be. It would be an easy transformation from Ghoul killer to serial killer in the span of a few nights.

Instead, she was saved from a further conversation by the bus driver calling everyone back onto the bus. He got up and gave her a friendly smile and a nod that made her skin crawl as he got back onto the bus. Another odd thing. Did she hear metal clinking a bit as he walked? Was he carrying a gun? Or, maybe, gun_s_, as in plural, as in more than one?

There was an insane urge to just sit there and let the bus leave. It was silly. If she did that, the man would just make up some excuse and come after her. During the day she was completely helpless. At least on the bus there were plenty of people to be witnesses if he tried anything. There, she was at least safe as long as someone was around.

But she couldn't ride the bus forever.

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Lorain Hellsing watched the side of the road go by, resisting the yearning desire to bite her lip as she tried to figure out a way out of this mess. She couldn't leave the country. She didn't have a passport (whatever that was), but that was a small problem compared to the one she was facing now.

Now she was dealing with some kind of killer.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to elude that annoying little fear pulling at her mind. There was no place for that, not right now. Right now she needed a clear mind. So, she blocked out the road moving outside and let the leash on the killer within loosen, a fraction of an inch.

The gun was heavy in her breast pocket.

Aware that she could pull it out, unobserved, and even sneak a bullet without anyone noticing until it banged and the man's brains were splattered all over the windows was another distraction. It wouldn't look too much different from sending a Ghoul back to nothingness, to being a corpse. There would still be the same mess.

Lori forced herself past that delicious thought.

No. Not here. Too many people. Nightfall. It would have to be nightfall. Get off the bus. If she was lucky she could find a crowd and disappear into it. Or, if worse came to worse, she could always tell someone that she was being stalked by what she assumed to be a child molester or something. She wasn't sure if he swung that way or not. Could you ever tell with those kinds of people?

And if there was no one?

A bullet, even if it was made of silver, could the same job on a person as it could on a Ghoul. But only if it had to come to that; this still could be some kind of misunderstanding.

Even if she seriously doubted it.

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Book Dragon: "Ack, this chapter was a bit slow. Things pick up in the next. Trust me."


	8. Chapter 8

Book Dragon: "As always, thank you Sirus183 and pruningshears for reviewing the last chapter. Thanks goes to anyone who has reviewed before, I appreciate all the feed back. Things will pick up here. I don't own Hellsing (and probably never will). Next Chapter in 5…4…3…2…1-!"

Chapter 8

_Where are you! Where are you, damn it! _

The voice boomed, seething in the dark, twisted and unknown among the billions of opening eyes. Scarlet lights twinkling in the dark-

When the bus stopped, Lori woke with a start.

And proceeded to be very angry with herself. She hadn't meant to fall asleep! A quick look around and she found it didn't matter much. There were still people around and Blondie was still where she could see him, his back to her. All was safe, for the moment. Those people were getting up, and if she wanted to stay safe, she was going to have to move with the herd.

So she stood and followed them out. Before she got to the stairs, she made sure to glance in the reflection of the windshield. Yep. Blondie was taking the bait, three people separating them. Good, she'd have to make sure he didn't sneak up too close to her. Lori grinned to the driver and thanked him for driving.

When she turned her back, she missed his unnerved stare.

The nocturnal world was alive as usual. The air was cooler than normal. It woke her up a bit more, feeling it slipping into her lungs and swirl around next to her beating heart. The place was not a busy street corner as she would've hoped; glancing up at the orange sherbet glow of a streetlight, but it wasn't deserted. There were people walking calmly along the sidewalks and looking at the stores. It wasn't a small town, but it wasn't a city either.

There wasn't much of an advantage.

No real crowd to disappear into. Worse? Her little throng of travelers were separating, going about their lives and splitting apart as destiny had intended. The only question now was if fate also was cruel enough to intend her to murder a person at the age of thirteen.

But there was hope.

Her eyes caught the few people sitting outside the coffee place nearby, a couple at one table and woman alone at another, maybe a couple of yards away at most. Looks like someone upstairs was behind kind again. A small smile spread to her lips as she made her way over there, in the wake of smoke that had been vomited by the bus's muffler. Her ears twitched to the boots following her. _Jesus!_ How had he gotten that _close_ without her realizing before?

Carefully, she made her stride a bit longer. A bit quicker. She did not glance around to judge if she needed to run away or not. Was he muttering? She thought she could hear whispered words on the night air. It was frightening. Her legs wanted to take off towards the people, but that wouldn't do. They were hope. All she had to do was stay ahead of him…

Lorian was closing the gap, happy because this was over. She was going to make it. After that, they'd help her. They had to. She was only a girl and there was someone bound to be in the store to help them out. After that? She could slip away through the bathroom or something when the police showed up and make her escape after that.

The couple went back into the store, the man's arm around his lady's shoulder and whispering things in her ear, making her giggle. There was a momentary surge of panic, but it cooled to nothing when she saw the woman with short blonde spiky hair was still sitting there, holding her mug. She didn't sip it, but looked at it, the hair hiding her eyes. She didn't look to be going anywhere. For Lori, she was her last chance. Blondie was way too close to escape on foot now.

Five feet away and she knew she was safe. Lori opened her mouth to say something, anything and saw with more relief that the lady was lifting her head, aware of her presence. This would be over in a second-

Her eyes were red.

Lori froze in place, unable to keep her own eyes from widening. The spit completely dried from her mouth. It was standing there that she forgot the crazy Irishmen behind her. Now she was in deep shit. She was a _vampire._ Not a Ghoul, not a Freak. A full fledged vampire. Never had she ever taken a vampire on her own, but it looked like she was going to have to, because the 'lady' was getting up.

Lori started to go for her gun, already knowing that this was the end for her. She was only a kid. Yes, she was a Hellsing, but she was still only a kid. There was no escaping the vampire _and_ the Irishman. One of them would get her. It was only a matter of time.

_Well, I at least don't have to worry about being an undead._ Yes, she could be changed into a Ghoul, but at least she wouldn't have to worry about further disgracing her family by trying to make a living as a vampire. It was nice not to half to be tempted by such a thing.

Lori let the killer out of her cage.

Drew her gun and aimed.

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But it seemed the she-vampire had no intention of killing her or twisting her. The sudden blaze of emotion that filled her red dead eyes burned like the dusk sun. There was a moment of pure panic that rose to her face. Not use to seeing a kid wielding a gun? She charged forward faster than Lori could've ever anticipated. She didn't have time to even pull the trigger before she was on her.

The lady's arm curled around Lorian, making her press the gun into her shoulder. Lori was unable to keep her trigger finger in place as it was shoved up in the collision. Gritting her teeth, she was unable to keep it from pulling up and over the draculina's shoulder, away from her heart and head. Useless.

Her eyes widened in some shock as the draculina's forearm pressed against her lower back, pressed against the eternally cold body as if in some morbid hug, and lifted fully off the ground. Lori knew her neck was exposed. One arm was trapped, the other hanging uselessly over the vampire's shoulder. Lori braced herself for the sharp barrage of pain that would soon go searing through that soft flesh, her eyes slammed closed.

"Undead filth. Turn to dust and rot, Amen." The Irishman intoned behind her in an almost insane voice.

Lori opened her eyes, startled. She'd managed to forget about him.

Still hope. Lori struggled in the vampire's grasp. Momentarily surprised at how easy it was to move, while swinging her arm, finger reclaiming the trigger. Bent her elbow and drew it back in a bit. Managed to get the muzzle of her pistol to press against the undead's skull. There was still a chance she might distract her, at the very least and escape.

But there was movement behind Lori's back.

"Long time no see. Picking on little girls now, Judas Priest?" The woman snarled.

Lorian turned her eyes to the scene behind her. Stunned. For a moment, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. The Irishman had unveiled two every long bayonets that rivaled the size of machetes. He had them prone and ready to sink into her exposed back, through her and into the vampire's heart. His grin showed too much of his teeth and reminded her of a skull, his green eyes too wide and eager, arms stretched out in a stab. The bayonets were made of silver, so they'd kill the vampire if they pierced it.

That wasn't the stunning part. What was stunning was the fact the vampire, gritting her teeth, fangs sharp and over laying, and her red eyes glittering like hell's fire, was holding him at bay. The undead woman glared. The other arm, not holding Lori was out, hand open, palm facing towards him.

_Impaled_ by those two blades.

Holding them back, keeping them from piercing. The blood was pouring freely as they sunk further through the back of her hand and closer to Lori's exposed back. If only for one staining moment, this occurred, but she waved her hand away. The blades dipped with it, a fluid motion that ripped them from his hands. He was open now. The vampire charged forward and slammed her head into his forehead.

Deja'vu.

The Irish priest went stumbling back a step or so, but it wasn't for long. Lori watched with fascination as the draculina brought her skewered hand back, smoking with the silver. Watched her open her mouth and pull each of the handles out with her teeth and spit them onto the ground where they clanged. The angry snarl on her face was absolute. She looked like a wild animal.

"Unclean-" He started.

Lorain had heard enough. The killer surged forward. Lori removed the barrel, twisted it around so her nose pressed against the inside of her elbow. Briskly shot the priest in the forehead, aiming with one eye. She smirked sadistically as the bullet made a hole in his head roughly the size a pencil could slip through easily. It was more gratifying to watch him buckle back and fall to the ground with a thud.

She looked at the wisp of smoke that escaped the barrel with pleasure.

Then she felt red eyes looking at her.

Lori turned back, her shooting arm stiff and ready to curl around if the draculina so much as twitched the wrong way. The vampire's arm was still encircled around her waist and she was two inches away from the vital point of her neck, arm curled in front of her face or not. It would be easy for her to bite her, but still, Lori wouldn't help but try to bring some hell before she went down.

"Nice shot." The she-vampire said instead, looking impressed.

Lorian started at her, surprised, but considering her. Odd.

The little Hellsing lowered her arm, cautiously.

"Er-Thank you. Could you put me down please?" Equally odd.

Lori's heart sank when the vampire shook her head and looked at the Irish Priest on the ground. The little Hellsing was ready to go through her resolve again when the vampire said something surprising.

"Not yet. He'll get back up in a minute. He's a regenerator. We should get the hell out of here. I'll have to carry you. You're too slow, as a human. Here we go."

Lori opened her mouth to say something. To maybe protest against it, but the draculina's arms where already curled around her tighter and she zoomed off at a run that made Lorain's head swirl slightly. _Christ!_ She grabbed onto the cold flesh beneath her, clinging for dear life as the world swam by in a blur.

Too dazed to believe her amazing luck.

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"Is a r-regenerator what I think it is?" Lorian asked.

She sat in a small cozy room with a blanket over her shoulders, a mug of hot coco wrapped in her pale fingers. The couch was indigo, soft, and comfortable. There was a suspicion that if she allowed herself to sit back properly, she could fall asleep in less than five minutes.

Lorian stayed upright.

She fingered her jacket, laid out next to her, while keeping a careful gaze on the draculina, who sat opposite her in an equally comfortable chair. The spiky blonde sat just as rigidly, smiling a little too tightly and staring far too much. It was clear they were both uncomfortable in this little dim room (the place was lit by candles only) despite all its homey touches.

Lori tried not to pay too much attention to the photographs and focus on the vampire before her (best not to let your guard down even if she did save her from a nasty fate), but they were interesting. One was of a man holding a small blonde haired girl on his shoulder. He was handsome and he wore a blue uniform (police man, before the uniforms were created to accustom the officer, interesting). Clearly the draculina's human father…

"It's a human that can re grow himself, yes, if that's what you're thinking."

Lori thought about this, fingering her cup before sipping it cautiously.

"…Can you kill them?" She asked.

"If you fill his skull with bullets, I'm sure you can." The draculina replied, and said nothing else.

She was staring _far_ too much. Lori shifted uncomfortably and tried not to look back. Again, her eyes flickered over the photographs over the coffee table that separated them. They were all old. It was an odd world to be glimpsing, though it didn't look too different from the one she walked through today. The pictures weren't as crisp, and there were things that looked odd to her. The color of the sky, for example. Had it once been _that_ blue?

"You look familiar." The draculina said, "Have we met somewhere before?"

"I don't believe so." Lori replied, smiling a bit sheepishly.

If they had met before, it would've only been once. Alucard would've put a bullet through her head. Still, there was something very different about this one. Not every day you get saved from some random vampire. Then again, thinking back to her meeting in the basement with Alucard, that had happened to her twice already. The girl considered all of this, sipping her coco, until she was interrupted by the sound of the blonde bloodsucker's stomach growling.

Both of them froze.

Then the draculina laughed nervously.

They both spoke simultaneously.

"Don't worry, I don't-"

"If you're hungry, d-don't be-"

They both stopped and stared at each other. Lorian was growing more and more surprised by the minute. This was not the way she had imagined a vampire to behave at all. She seemed more like a shy, everyday sort of woman. Not a blood sucking monster at all. Even if her eyes were red, they seemed a little too big and too human-looking to belong to a demon.

When she gave another nervous laugh, Lori offered a consoling smile.

"I drink medical blood." The draculina told her.

"I figured. If you're hungry, don't be shy on my account."

Lori watched the vampire rise to her feet and go to the refrigerator. She started to poke around in there, before removing something and pouring it into a bowl, but stopped after a minute.

"Are you sure? I mean-"

"No. I'm fine. It doesn't bother me. I've seen it loads of times. It's not like its _mine_ or anything…" Lori told her, in an off hand tone.

The draculina nodded, and after another moment of hesitation, picked up the bowl and brought it back into the room with her. She put it on the table. Lori couldn't help but look in it, the dark red liquid that looked a bit like tomato soup. Then she felt eyes on her, so she looked up and shrugged.

"You're serious." The vampire said.

"Yes. I…had a friend that was one or your kin."

"Well, that explains an awful lot. Would you mind telling me your name? Mine is Seras Victoria. Perhaps I knew your parents…?"

Lorian snorted.

"I doubt it. My family is…well, let's just say your kind and mine wouldn't be able to sit in a room together." The girl replied, looking down into her mug, at her own reflection. Hearing the words out in the open like that, so coldly… It was a very sad and awful thing to say.

"But I'm not like them." Lori said, quieter. For some reason that sounded worse. So she shook it off and looked at one of the photos again. She pointed to an older gentleman, standing in professional-looking attire, on a sun-lit hill top somewhere and inquired about him, if not just to get away from the topic of her past and her name.

"Who's that?" Seras looked and smiled for a moment.

"That's Walter. He was a…good friend of mine. He passed away about a decade ago."

"I'm sorry." Lorian said.

It was clear that was a bit of a touchy subject because she looked terribly sad. Her eyes had that vague, seeing back into the past expression. Lorian knew that look because she had worn one like it on more than one occasion. Especially on the bus ride.

"…Did he go easy?" Seras nodded.

"Yup. Very old age. He was old when I met him. He was tough though. I don't think I'll ever meet another man quite like him again. He was a bit like a grandfather to me. I met him soon after I was given my…new life." Seras replied, before touching the side of her neck gently. Was there a pleased smile trying to rise to her face? Her eyes were soft.

But she smiled shyly instead, and shook herself of it.

"How old are you?" Lori asked, unable to stop herself or keep the wonder out of her voice.

It made Seras grin a bit, a sheepish, but friendly thing that the girl couldn't stop herself from liking either. It seemed extremely familiar. Lori wondered if maybe the same smile graced her face when she was a bit nervous.

"Oh, not _that_ old. Maybe fifty-five. Not very old for my kind, you probably know that. I'm still a considered a bit of a child."

Yes, Lori could see it in the way she behaved.

"Was it hard to adjust?"

"It was difficult, yes, but it's different for everyone…why?" She asked.

"And if I was a boy and I asked you to change me, would you do it?"

Both of them sat in silence. Lori was a bit stunned that she had been able to get the question out of her own throat without stuttering it. Then again, she felt more comfortable with Seras. Why? Because Seras reminded her a hell of a lot of herself. Their personalities were similar, more the same than anyone else Lori had ever encountered. Even the look of surprise was easy to understand.

"…I'd have to ask why you'd want to do it. You know, it doesn't make things any easier. Would you tell me?" Seras asked, leaning forward and looking at her.

The concern in her scarlet eyes was a bit nerve-racking. Lori had to lean back a bit and take quick glances at her. Couldn't stare directly at her. Couldn't bare it. The girl sighed and wondered if this was such a good idea, looking down and staring at her own reflection in the dark brown liquid. Her face that didn't look like a Hellsing at all.

And it never would.

"Well, I'd tell you what I could. I'd tell you I need a passport because I'm going away and probably wouldn't be coming back. I'd tell you I'm running away because they all want me to be something I'm not, something I'll never become and the only person that sees it is me. I can't do it."

"Did you tell them this?"

"N-no. They're not the type to listen or accept that." Lori said coldly.

Her fingers suddenly curled a little harder around the mug and she felt her jaw tighten. Something else was coming up out of her throat. The words rolled over her tongue easily enough and she heard them, a bit startled.

"I _hate_ them." She snarled.

"Oh come on, you don't really mean that-" Seras started, but Lori looked up at her.

Met her eyes fully for the first time and held them there. The killer was swimming around close to the surface of herself, like a prowling shark, and its gaze was as steady as her teacher's had been. It wanted to come out and have a little fun.

"Yes I do. They never accepted me. They wanted me to be perfect my whole life and all I could do was screw up, time and time again. Nothing I did was good enough. And now, because I cheated (they even _saw_ me do it), they think I'm something I'm not. I try and all I get is slammed around. I've had _enough_." Lori said, her words cold.

Her hands were trembling. For the first time, it wasn't fear that made them shake, but pure livid anger. They wanted to dawn the jacket of hers in one fluid swing of her arms and use that little wimpy pistol to give a little hell. She wanted to see a bit of blood splatter on the walls of her grandmother's office. She wanted to watch the whole castle just _burn_. To crumple to nothing but ash and brittle blackened stone. Wanted to rest a dominating foot over it

Lori wanted knock it down herself.

But Seras was frowning and looked frightened.

The girl sighed and forced that little kill-demon of hers to quiet down and her fingers stopped their quivering. When she opened her eyes she wasn't angry, just tired. Just very tired of it all.

"I'm sorry. I nearly lost my temper." She said, dully, and offered a small smile to show that all was well.

It hurt a bit when Seras gave it back, but it was a cramped and a pretty uneasy thing. Lori was going to open her mouth and say something else, but her eyes fell to the little fangs over lapping the draculina's teeth. The words died and some other confusion surged up. Was Seras scared? A vampire? _Frightened?_

But that made no sense. Lori waved it away, annoyed, and couldn't quite remember what she was going to say. So she rubbed the bridge of her nose with two fingers and decided to just drop it.

"Hm. Never mind, I'm just tired…could you help me get a passport, Ms. Victoria? Please?"

"I suppose so, if you really want to go that badly. Um, why not spend the day here? You've been up all night, and I can see the sun rising. You can think about it a bit…and if you still want to go in the evening, I'll help you." Seras said, and smiled.

Lori stared at her a minute, and then nodded. Okay. She already gone this far. What was one more day? Besides, Lori was pretty sure she had her mind made up. What could this draculina do or say to change it anyway? She didn't feel like arguing or forcing her. What just happened was confusing and awkward. Lori didn't want to dwell on it.

When Sears left to fetch her some pillows (they decided the couch would be fine as a bed) Lori reached to the floor for her suitcase, to change into a pair of pajamas. Her hand grabbed nothing. Lorian looked at the floor, puzzled for a moment, and then remembered she didn't have it. Had she grabbed it off of the bus? She couldn't remember. The girl sighed. Oh well. It was long gone by now.

All that left was her trench coat and her gun.

Lorian hugged it to her chest when she finally fell asleep.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

_Master._

Red eyes opening in the dark, but the booming voice was gone. Anger and…something else, was gone. It was…tranquil. The moon rose and it was stained scarlet. A small hand, hers, gloved in dove white reach up for it. Puzzled at the strange circles and stars on the back of her hand, before it too, began to stain red.

_Master._

The girl woke to a quiet voice talking.

"-no, she's fine. No injuries. Anderson was here earlier, though. Not, I'm _not_ kidding. Uh huh. Okay. Yes. That's correct. A couple of hours? Okay. We'll be here."

The phone was replaced with an audible click.

Lorian laid there, her nose still buried in the jacket. Her eyes were open, but her face was pointed to the back of the couch. The draculina couldn't see her to know she was awake. Unless she listened to her breathing, but Lori thought she wouldn't know to do such a thing. Her eyes were threatening to leak. A Hellsing didn't cry, but was she a Hellsing anymore?

If she stayed here, she was going to have to be.

Seras Victoria had betrayed her.

Lori didn't understand it. Who had she _called_? Not Grandma. No _way_, but who else would give a shit about her at all? Lorian could think of no one. Except Alucard maybe. And why not? All vampires had been human once; wouldn't they be social or something? The girl didn't know. It was all so screwy. Her foggy and sleep muddled brain wasn't functioning as she would've liked.

And was she even right? What if Seras had called someone, like a friend or something? No. The context was wrong. Ms. Victoria had called _somebody_ and soon they would be coming to collect her. Either to kill her or take her back home. Lorian didn't think Seras was trying to kill her.

That's why Lorian didn't shoot her when she snuck out of the house.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X


	9. Chapter 9

Book Dragon: "My gratitude goes to Will, Lord Makura, and pruningshears for reviewing the last chapter, and as always to anyone who had read or reviewed this story. I really thought people were going to hate this and I'm still surprised. I don't own Hellsing (and never will) and here is the next chapter."

Chapter 9

Ms. Seras Victoria hadn't fallen asleep until about seven in the morning. Lori had to edge into her room just to make sure she was sleeping in her coffin. Up to this point, she'd never seen a coffin before. It was a long wooden thing, maple wood, polished, and exactly as it looked in all the movies.

It made her wonder where Alucard's was and what it looked like.

Lorian was walking at a fast trot, the sun bearing down on her because she was wearing black. It was warm and she really didn't need the jacket, but she kept it on. It was becoming more and more apart of her each and every day she had it. It would be hard to give up when it finally did bite the dust, but if she was careful, it would last a while.

She didn't know where she was going.

There was no way she was going to be able to get a passport now. Seras could've mentioned that to whoever it was. Whoever else was looking for her.

Lorian felt alone. Felt alone, lost, and terribly trapped. Even in the daylight with all those wandering people walking about, she felt the weight of it bearing down again, on her like the claws of a wild animal. What was she going to do now? She couldn't leave. They'd be here in a few hours. She couldn't run.

Could she hide somewhere?

She stood there, trying to think. Two hours of sleep wasn't helping much. She could also see that a few of the men across the street kept looking at her, concerned. They were just men, but she didn't want them to come over and try to help her. She wanted to be somewhere where she could sit and think. Even if it was only for a little while. Some place she wouldn't be bothered…

Then she saw the church.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Lorian Hellsing sat in one of the pews at the back of the church. There was no mass going on at the moment. The place was deserted and pretty quiet. There was no one around at all. Besides, when you were on the run, weren't you supposed to take sanctuary in the church or something? She'd read a few books where someone had done that.

The girl sat with her head bowed and her hands in her hair.

What the _hell_ was she going to do?

Couldn't stay here. This was a public place. They'd check here. It was only a temporary reprieve. She had to think of a better hiding place. A place where not many people would normally go. Where there any woods around? No, they'd comb through those well enough. The fields were too open. There were no abandoned barns around. No inconspicuous light houses, even here at the coast. Each and every place she thought up she had to scratch out on her list. It needed to be close with more than a dozen hiding places.

The panic was rising.

She was hopelessly trapped.

"God, I wish was I dead." She moaned and could feel herself ready to start sobbing.

Her eyes were growing murky, brimming with tears. This time they would escape and dampen her face. This time she would cry. For sure. At the end of her rope. Maybe death was the best thing. She _did_ have a gun sitting in her pocket. One hole right through the temple, right? That was all it took. Bang. It would all be over in less than a second.

Lori pressed her hand over that cold weight on her chest.

Yes. The girl could see herself, pulling her pistol out and loading a clip into it, her face expressionless. Could see the barrel as she lifted it and opened her mouth, could _feel_ it pressed against the soft skin on the roof of her mouth, cold to the touch.

The size of the hole that thing could make? Half her skull would be cracked open like an egg and her brains would be covering the pews and the columns that were closest. She could feel the blood pumping in her fingers as she brushed her hands over it. Thinking. Considering.

Dead. To be dead.

Wait a minute…

Lorian stood up as an idea seized her. Her eyes were light and suddenly very hopeful as she looked up at the alter of the church. A smile was threatening to break out, but she wouldn't allow it. It was risky. Very risky. But where else did she possibly have to go? It was the last place they'd think to look for her.

It was her last hope.

Lorian bowed in respect before she left, despite being in a hurry.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Several people passed her by.

Lorian could hear them, but she stayed still in the dark, watching the shadows move by, obscuring the light for a few seconds as they passed. There was nothing to worry about. If they had been running by with big banging boots, she would've had to worry. But they weren't. Their shoes were polished black.

They were mourners.

Lori sat on the hard stone floor, her back against the equally cold wall. She breathed silently, controlling her breathe. Not that anyone would hear her. They'd have to stand by the door and listen in. Not that many people made a habit of doing that to the graves of loved ones. If they wanted to visit the dead, usually they just unlocked the door and entered the crypt.

Hiding in the cemetery had been a good idea.

She'd spent about fifteen minutes, walking fast past all the headstones and trying all the doors. They didn't open. All the locks and chains held against her attempts, but some of them had been replaced loosely. It was a lucky break for her. Being so small, she some how managed to wriggle in through the crack in the door.

For the entire day, she sat against the same wall the door had been built in and kept the opening in sight at all the times. Peered through the slit she'd come in through and watched the grass fawning in the breeze, her arms curled around her knees. The sun was starting to set. No tan uniform of any sort had been seen all day. It made her paranoid and expected them to come around and find her, but no one had yet. She was beyond tired. She was haggard.

Somehow Lori slipped into a fit full sleep, her teacher's voice ringing like bells in her head. It was so vivid; she almost accepted it as real and not just the work of her imagination. Eyes, eyes, eyes again. Blooming like blood red roses. She stood among them, her eyes wide and watching them all flick open. Fingers hesitant, but looking up at the scarlet moon, the bane of life and light of the world. This was a dark realm, but she wanted to touch it. To know it, a bit.

His voice came softly behind her from shadow.

_If you _insist _to test yourself, Master, then it will be so._

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

…And woke up so something shifting in the coffin to her left.

Her eyes opened to utter darkness. Her body was numb. She looked up at the window and found only a few twinkling stars, but it was a passing thought. She kept blinking, trying to adjust her vision as her ears informed her that, yeah, the coffin lid was sliding off.

_Ah Christ,_ she thought with a sigh.

Lorian pulled the pistol out of her pocket and got it ready. This is the risk she had been thinking about. Sure, the place was totally void of _people_, but of vampires? No Jose man. She was squinting, unable to see properly. _Shit!_ She had to go by her ears. A scrape and a hollow thud. The lid clunked off and something was sitting up. Two red eyes opened brightly in the darkness. It was a blessing.

Lori aimed at one of them, carefully, closing one eye. Her trigger finger twitched, eager for the command to send the thing back to hell if it kicked up a fuss with her. Hopefully no one would be guarding the place outside. Or be anywhere near to hear the gunfire. The killer swirled up, ready to take over and dispatch the nightwalker.

She pulled the trigger.

Or tried to.

Her fingers were frozen in place. Lorian tried to pull her arms up, to move her legs, anything. Frozen in place like a little statue, one eye closed and staring at those two red ones as they gazed back. Barrel pointed stiff and fingers immobile. She couldn't look away.

She was paralyzed.

_Forgot about hypnosis, dolt._ Alucard said in her head.

How many times had he told her not to look directly into the eyes of a vampire? How God-damn many? She always kept forgetting because her teacher was the only she could ever make eye contact with without squirming. Now she was doomed by it. Oh great. Her eyes were threatening to swim in tears not at the fact that she was going to die now, but that her teacher's voice was still so damn clear in her mind.

"A little vampire hunter at my very doorstep. Shouldn't you knock before entering one's home?" The thing asked in the darkness, over the mental whispering of Alucard.

It was male. Lorian's lips were glued together. She couldn't even get her tongue to move. It was dead on the bottom of her mouth. She couldn't even squint at the sudden candle light that blared and tore through the blackness at one simple flick of its hand.

It took a second for her eye to stop hurting, the other muffled in blackness beneath her eyelid, and her pupil to contract back. The gun was still in her hands, pointing directly at his head. He had a handsome face (because they all were pretty after the transformation, it made hunting easier, duh). His hair was chestnut brown, curling with small red high-lights. His eyes were bright, those of a wolf. His smile was perfectly white and his teeth sported those dagger fangs.

He wore a gray suit, a black tie and black gloves. He looked pressed, ready for a night of dancing. Courting. More over, hunting.

"Almost caught me snoozing, didn't you? That would've been embarrassing. How old are you, twelve?"

He grinned a little wider, still holding her eyes and her body captive. The moment he broke the connection, she'd have maybe, what? Two seconds to get the movement back in her fingers? But there would be no chance of that. Lori could already tell he wasn't one of the scum her teacher liked to smack down into the ground for fun.

This was a fairly old one.

He could change to shadow.

The little Hellsing watched as his pale long fingers lost their pearl white color and twisted to blackness; grow long and crooked like spider legs. They came quickly, zipping up to her face in less than a heart beat. One stopped less than a centimeter in front of her open eye, threatening to gorge it out. A bang of fear swept through her for a moment, and he laughed, seeing it flying through her gaze.

"Would you like your speech back, little one?"

Something flickered in his predatory gaze.

Lori could feel her mouth loosen and become useable. Her tongue twitched and rubbed against her teeth for a moment, but the rest of her head still wouldn't obey her, even as the black thing continued to hover so very close to her face.

The girl said nothing.

Just sat there. Waiting. He was playing with her. He wanted to hear her beg for her life before he took it away. That was a vampire's fancy, those that stalked and killed their prey. It didn't matter how old that kind of vampire was, it was always the same. The only frightening part was their self control. Their patience. Their cunning.

Not their blood lust.

He frowned.

"Oh come now, this isn't any fun." He said, confirming her thoughts.

The black thing recoiled from her, done with that threat. Instead it lowered down and curled loosely around her neck. It felt like ice cold smoke, moving like seaweed and starting to run through her hair. Lorian tried to grit her teeth against it, throwing the child part of herself back and summoning the little killing-demon from within. Forward. Come further forward, Killer.

Her trigger finger twitched.

Those red eyes saw it.

"Interesting." He said, running his tentacles through her hair, making them writhe like worms and centipedes.

Would he change them into those things? Lorian stared back at him coldly, the killer ruling the scene. Her imagination created a series of pictures, all of which contained his body breaking into dust and nothingness. And there would be agony to be paid.

It made her smirk inside.

"I'm going to kill you." She said. The pleasure in her voice could not be ignored. The Nosferatu sitting in his coffin smiled back at her. It was a lazy and arrogant thing. Clearly he thought it was funny, coming from a little girl with nothing but a gun pointing at him, a puppet to his eyes and influence.

"Oh really? May I ask the name of my killer?" He inquired in a purr.

Lorian said nothing.

"_Answer me._" He commanded.

"Lorian Integra Michaela Hellsing." She said coldly, but her tongue worked on its own.

When someone was caged by a vampire's eyes, there was no escape. Especially if they were eyes that belonged to an ancient. They had years of knowledge and practice when it came to hypnosis. Usually they were the only ones that bothered to use it too. It figured.

His red eyes widened momentarily.

"That's _very_ interesting." He said, but his voice was lower.

He was considering her now as a person. Not as mere prey. Not a normal vampire hunter, but one of some elite family. Just a name. All because of her stupid name. He was thinking she was something she wasn't. Why did they all have to assume just because she carried a name that she was something she _wasn't_!

The anger came like a torrent from below.

"Don't you _dare_ compare me, you miserable _bastard_. I'm not like them." She snarled.

He looked at her for a moment, and then busted out laughing. Lori clenched her teeth against it. Her hand started to quake with the rage, but still her finger still wouldn't pull the trigger. _He'll pay, don't worry, he'll pay for that._ A seething voice all her own promised. It was dark and spoke with such confidence that the child below, the one buried, the one her imagination entertained to be herself, widened her eyes in surprise.

Had she actually meant that?

"That's very funny. You look _exactly_ like a Hellsing to me." He replied.

His fingers fluttered up. Lori felt her legs unbend and make her stand at full height. Puppet on strings. An odd thing to realize was that she had stood hunched her whole life. It was uncomfortable standing fully erect, but something flickered across his eyes. Impressed, maybe?

Lori doubted it.

All she needed to do was trip to make him see her true self. What was there to be impressed about anyway? She watched him curl his index finger at her, the classic 'come here' signal. Her legs moved like lead, but they came forward and up the couple of steps to him, despite all her will to pull back and away.

He laughed at her struggles. She soon stood before him, less than a foot, right next to the coffin. His breathe was of rot and cold on her face as he looked down and examined her. The black was wrapping more and more around her, down to her knees. It looked like frayed lace and moved like dandelions in a night breeze, bobbing and swaying.

His grin widened, showing off his fangs.

There was no turning away as one pale hand came down and brushed her left cheek. She had to stand and bare it, feeling his touch hover around the rest of herself. Black ribbons that prodded and poked. Was he trying to torture her? It wasn't working. It was just pissing her off more and more, aware of that black swirling thing within.

Her stare was cold.

And she knew she was going to die. Gun in her hand? Pfft. She wasn't going to be able to use it. He was looking at her now and he was hungry. He wouldn't entertain himself and play with her anymore. She was doomed to watch his face come closer and closer to her own, smell his black smell, and feel the burning desire to reach out and claw him. Point the barrel and make a hole in his face. Open her own jaws and bite his nose off. Anything. Just to go out kicking and screaming.

Not because it's what her whole family would've wanted.

Because it was what _she_ wanted, more than anything.

The killer wanted it.

And Lori wondered, as she felt the living corpse's breathe on her neck, as all those black swirling ribbons parted her hair and bore that soft flesh and the blood pumping beneath it. Within, the child looked at the killer and the killer, in turn, stared back at the child. An interesting awakening of consciousness, and there was fear, fear of that thing that rose to the killing edge and loved it. Yes, it was a killer, but what _else_ was it?

A Monster? Or a Knight?

The world blared red and black.

But the Irish Priest saved her from the answer.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Cold points had settled on her skin, ready to break the surface of it. Her body was constricted by all those ebony flittering ribbons. There was no need for his red poisonous gaze to make her his puppet, his play thing, and his meal. The cat was done playing with a mouse.

The door slammed in and became a splintering mess behind them. Lori didn't see it, but she felt it from the air, the way it shook and blasted behind her. A few of the pieces fell like little needles and pierced her legs and her back, but there was no reacting to that. Not when you're still as stiff as a board. All she could do was grit her teeth and let out a tiny pained snarl.

Those black digits froze and the predator looming over her shoulder looked up, curious as to its second visitor of the night. They did not loosen. They just froze dead in place. A strange tilting moment passed, a second or so, but in the mind?

A second can last an eternity, if it is the right type of moment. He lost his focus, and Lori was aware of all the pain, the child was screaming, but the killer was twisting around, eyes wide and claws outstretched, startled as something else lessened in the back of her head.

Had that just been what she thought it had been?

"I'm busy at the moment, human, would you please-"

"Black filthy monster. Our Father, who art in Heaven, holy be your name, by kingdom come, I will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven, give us our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen. I will rid this place of your slime, demon." The priest said.

Lori was already moving. Her arm flew up, with a bit too much power because she was so eager to be able to be in motion. To escape his grasp. He had been foolish, removing his eyes from her like that. It was too late; her eyes flew shut as his red gaze tried to return and plant himself back into her thoughts. There was no need to use her eyes. She pointed her weapon and fired.

It struck his heart and blew a hole through it.

There was a spray of blood that assaulted her face, wet and sticky to the touch. She didn't open her eyes and felt the second assault of dust and ash that swirled past her unturned face, a small blissful smile curling at her lips. The killer within was roaring with triumph, and she allowed herself to feel it booming like a pulse through her veins until all the debris settled about her.

And in the blackness, moments before she opened her eyes?

It must have been a trick of her mind, but it had been absolutely beautiful as well as terrifying. For a flickering moment, the world felt so much larger, so much darker. Except for all the spanning red eyes. Crimson orbs spanning that vastness forever and always. Watching and watching and looking and looking. Different from the dreams. All beautiful enough to make terror take the backseat. Why? Why would they be so wonderful and bring such singing blissfulness. Bring such roaring happiness to that Killer from within?

Were they shining with pride?

Then she reopened her eyes and turned to the man behind her.

He was glaring at her, his blessed knifes in full view. Standing next to the coffin and a few feet above, he suddenly looked smaller and sillier. Not a psycho killer at all, even though he was angry and looked ready to tare her head off. Everything was clearer and cooler. Easier to see and hid no secrets. She pointed her gun at him, waiting.

"Heathen brat, I'll cut ye down. You mock the work of _God_." He snarled.

"I don't know about God, _Sir,_ but go ahead. Make my day." She replied.

Her voice boomed darkly and she stared down at him, waiting for him to make a move. Everything was calm within. Watchful, but calm. She was ready.

He took a step forward.

"That's enough, Alexander." A familiar voice said behind him.

The Irishman stopped and turned, curious to the figure that had come behind him. They both knew who it was. Lori wasn't surprised that the two men were connected. It was the one her grandmother had called Maxwell.

The Hellsing girl watched the priest lower his blades as a man came around him, a man with gray long silk like hair pulled back into a pony tail. He had been nice-looking in his youth, and it hadn't gone entirely away. His dress was plain and simple, and his eyes were blue even in the dark. He looked up at her and smiled.

"Ms. Lorian Integra Michaela Hellsing, I presume." He said pleasantly.

"Mr. Maxwell, I equally presume." Lori replied, but did not lower her gun.

"Seems you've had a bit of a rough time. This, also, is not a time of war for your country, Ms. Hellsing, and it would be unwise to keep pointing that pistol at me. Someone could get hurt." He was smug.

Lori simply pulled the top of the gun and loaded another bullet into the barrel.

"I could give a damn." The Killer told him, bored.

The smile disappeared from his face. It was an interesting thing to watch. Instead, he looked at her for a moment, solemn but tranquil. Lorian gave no expression in return. She just stared down at him and waited. Watching.

"Don't you understand? Did your family not-?"

"I _have_ no family." She told him.

And watched his eyes bug out of his head.

"That's-"

Lorian lifted her gun, pointed it to the ceiling and shot it three times. She lowered it again, as quick as a viper; barrel still smoking and pieces of the stone work falling like pebbles on pavement.

"SHUT UP!" The Killer bellowed.

A slice of pain bloomed on her right cheek and she found her head suddenly tilted. Blood ran from the sliver-like cut that graced her face and down her neck. A glance behind her and she found one of those blessed blades imbedded in the wall. Her teeth gritted together, but she did not point her gun at Anderson. That was a bit too close for comfort. She'd deal with him if he proved any more trouble-some.

"Alexander, that's enough." Mr. Maxwell said, again, but it was clear he didn't have too much control over him. It was also clear he was worse than Anderson, in a weird weakling power-hungry sort of way. Lori could see it clearly, like fluorescent lights in the night. Blaringly loud in his expression, stance, and speech.

He never took his eyes off of her. It was the same type of look a person uses when regarding a wolf they suddenly encounter on the forest path. Will it bite? Or will it walk off and leave you be? Depends on the type of wolf, but until it bares it fangs and steps forward…

"Listen to me, Mr. Maxwell. It will be in _your_ best interest. If you don't piss me off any more, I think I'll let you live. Do you understand? No, better yet, don't answer that. I don't want to hear another word out of you. Just nod." She snarled.

It was a paused moment, but he did nod.

"Good. Now. To business. You seem like a business man to me. If either of you tries anything, anymore, ever again, I will make it my mission in life to bring you down. How? Well, my teacher told me to be creative once, so I think I'll follow his advice. I'll let your imaginations do a bit of work for a change. Understand? Nod please."

Another nod was given, but it was grudged.

"Excellent. Good job. Almost done. I'm going to leave this room. I don't want to see either of you ever again. I'm going to go get a passport, and if there's a problem, I'm going to give them your name. If they call, you're going to nod your head and smile. That will be all. You'll never see me again. Are we clear? One last nod, please."

Lorian got it.

"Good. Thank you, Mr. Maxwell." She replied, still pointing the gun at his head even as she came down the stairs, slow and careful.

He was bound to be _beyond_ pissed off. She could already tell what kind of man he was. He'd be the type to go nuclear if a little kid just started ordering him around, to which, she had just done. Still, the child still breathing within her really didn't want to kill him unless she had to. Nope. The only weapon in the room was Anderson, and he would be going to Hell or Heaven. Lori didn't care which. Just as long as he was gone for a few moments and out of her life.

Lori edged her way around them, to the door, and pressed her back into it. They stared back at her, their eyes cold but glistening with aggravation. Even without those signs she wouldn't have trusted them as far as she could throw them. They never left her sight.

"Ms. Lorian?" Mr. Maxwell asked, quietly. Wise. He didn't use her last name.

"Yes?"

"I believe it would be fair warning to let you know that your Grandmother is coming here the very instant that we speak. She should be here in less than five minutes."

Lori stared at him for a moment, unmoving. What this some kind of joke? No, it wasn't. His face was too smooth and his eyes were sparkling with rage. He wanted to get her riled up because he was left helpless. If he killed her now, her grandmother would personally have his head on a stick. His hands were tied.

It was rather childish way to get revenge.

"Thank you, Mr. Maxwell. I'm sure she'll be pleased to see me before I go."

Lori left, but not before giving Anderson a bullet between the eyes. His glasses snapped apart and broke when they fell and his body made the most wonderful thumping sound as it, too, hit the floor. Not permanently, but for the next few minutes or so.

Why had she shot him?

Just because she felt like it.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Book Dragon: "Next Chapter is the last, I'm afraid, just to let you know…"


	10. Chapter 10

Book Dragon:

"I'm grateful to Syren, blazingfirewolf, pruningshears, and Lord Makura for reviewing last chapter. THANK YOU ALL FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT AND REVIEWS. I'm sorry to say that this is the last chapter, but I'm also pleased to say, out the entire story, this is my most favorite.

"I find this weird because usually I'm a fan of beginnings. To tell the truth, I had no idea it would end so quickly, but, well, this was how it wanted to end. Sometimes the author is held captive by a tale… Here it is, the last. If I sequel comes to me, I'll write it, as for now…I wish you well in all fondness and how you enjoy it."

Chapter 10

The jig was up. There was no where left to run. No more 'can't catch me coppers!' as they intoned in the very old movies. You can't run, you can't even hide. You've swum against the current long enough and now became too tired to even tread water. Just let it take you and drown to the icy black sea. Now it was time to face the demon in the face and see who came out victorious. Who was left standing.

But the moon was so pretty tonight.

Lorian held the pistol loosely against her side, staring up at it for a moment. Then she changed the clips without looking, still admiring its bone white surface. Lovely. Marvelous. It made her want to draw it. Maybe she would. The road was long and stretching. She passed the gravestones, her walk calm, cool, and collected.

She felt eerily peaceful. Not scared or frightened even though her Grandmother would probably be frowning at her. Or screaming at her. That did not matter anymore. She wasn't going to do it. It was simple. No one could make her if she really did not want to. She was a human being for God's sake. Was there not a thing called freedom? The air came in and out of her lungs. It made her feel good. She felt alive.

The girl was dully aware something major had happened back there.

Something had changed within.

A thought occurred to her and she raised her hand and brushed the side of her neck. No fang marks. He hadn't pierced her. She was still human. It made her frown and look at her fingers, confused. Not a vampire? How could she feel this way if she was still the old Lorian? Little scared timid Lorian? Yet, she didn't feel normal. Didn't feel like herself at all.

What had happened?

The thirteen-year-old thought about it as she walked calmly down the way. It was just a curious little jaunt her mind had taken on. It mattered a little bit more than the cars that where coming down the road. She could see the headlights from up here as she stopped and looked at the view a moment, down the twilight slope.

A passing zephyr played with the tips of her trench coat. Combed back her wrong colored hair. Never blonde. Passed her open and almost all seeing eyes. Never blue. Her lungs took in another cool breath and she felt the Killer begin to rise up and take her seat again. The throne. Ready to rule like a queen. To call the shots.

"If you must." Lori told that part of herself with a sigh.

Why fight it anymore? It had gotten so strong that it had raided her conscious, the one that said what was right and what was wrong. Things were so confusing now. Why continue to worry about it? Did it really matter that much? Why fight her nature, what possible sense did it make to fight her own nature?

"Are you ready to be the Master?" a familiar voice asked.

Lorian turned her eyes to the left and found her teacher, leaning with his back against one of the taller monuments, his collar up and hiding the bottom of his face while his sunglasses and hat hid the rest of it. A stone angel stood above him, bare foot, with her arms raised to the sky and reaching the twilight evening. Maybe wanting to open her marble wings and take off and enter the blackness above?

The young Hellsing did not flinch back or look away from him. There was no fear to be felt. He was and would always be her teacher, even if he was a monster. It wasn't a crime. She herself was growing into a beast more and more each day, after all. That was never in the nature of a normal child, but had she ever been truly normal?

He stopped leaning against the memorial and faced her, his hands in his pockets. His sunglasses were winking in the moon light. Lori did not back away as he approached and stood in front of her, looking down. He seemed a little different now. He wasn't grinning. Seemed to be asking a serious question with just his face (even though it looked like he was also teasing).

She didn't get it.

"You have blood on your face." He told her, instead.

"I know." Lori replied.

Then, in a bizarre moment, she stuck her tongue out and licked the blood splatter that had been drying on her lips. It was tangy and tasted awful. She turned away and spat, once, ridding herself of the taste. Curiosity has its punishments, she supposed. When she turned back she spoke softly and without shame.

"I had to see, at least once." She told him.

"You aren't supposed to eat war paint." He replied.

The comment wasn't strange, not to her. A similar thought had just skipped through her mind like a flat rock across a pond. As for the 'war paint', it was going to bared it with pride when she met Grandma down there. His comment made her smile, glad to find that even if she was strange, she wasn't the only one.

But still…

"Were you watching me in there?" She asked him, calmly, unmoving.

The wind blew pleasantly and ruffled their clothes as they stood staring at each other for a moment. The more and more she looked at his two red eyes, the more and more she was reminded of the strange dreams. The red eyes before her looked so very similar to the strange winking ones in her subconscious. The flickering ones, the world of them, that had been beaming for a moment back there.

But her teacher wasn't one to beam, surely?

He said nothing. Just reached up and suddenly ruffled the hair on the top of her head in a bizarrely affectionate motion. He did not smile. Nor did he tell her she did an excellent job. That was not his way. Neither was this little 'I'm pleased with you' touch. Had he done it because she had wanted him to?

It was such a fatherly gesture.

Lori said nothing. Just smiled, a bit embarrassed at the thought of her mind being read so easily without her knowing about it. It was really all the answer she needed. Lori enjoyed the brief moment, her eyes closing to relish it, his fingers brushing on the top of her scalp and ending with a gentle stroke of her cheek, and missed it when he removed his cold touch. Mourned the lost of it. Found it nice, even though it was that of a corpse.

It was just nice to be touched after being alone for so many years.

When he stopped, she opened her eyes and followed his slow decent down the hill. The moon went ignored for a while. They stared at the downhill path meandering descent before their feet and followed it, the night air stroking their forms. There was no movement in the grave yard other than them. They were two shadows in the night.

A while later, she spoke, hesitantly.

"Alucard?"

"Yes?"

"Will you meet my Grandmother with me?"

"If that is your bidding…"

Lorian sighed.

"Yes, it is my bidding." She muttered unhappily.

She was defeated yet again by his relentlessness. Some things were never going to change. The urge to lift her gun and shoot him when he made a mocking bow made her face flush with anger. He had a teasing smile spread on his face.

"As you wish, my Master." He said.

"Yeah, okay, just don't rub it in." She murmured.

They continued to walk down the hill together.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Lorian was having second thoughts.

The cars were parked and she could hear car doors slamming down there, but still she couldn't pick out which one her grandmother was in. Some part of her wanted to start yammering. What are you thinking? Grandma would probably whip out her gun and start shooting at Alucard before they even got ten feet near her. Would she listen if Lori tried to explain that he was a 'good' vampire? That she was his 'Master'? God, she could imagine the enraged look on Grandma's face at such implied stupidity.

They got to the gate and Lori decided it would be better to watch her get out of the car instead of trying to figure out which was hers of all the black ones. The Killer within made her check the clipping again, just to reassure herself it was loaded, and waited for the inevitable yelling match that was going to ensue.

Lori was considering giving into the urge of telling him to get out of here when one of the doors opened. Lori waited, grim-faced for her grandmother's form to lean out and the gunfire to start.

Instead, she found herself staring at Seras Victoria, with her wide red eyes bright in the twilight in a tan uniform like all the other Hellsing units. She got out of the car, _scrambled_ out of it, and ran towards them with the biggest smile Lorian had ever seen. The draculina's laughter was also pleasant as she cried out.

"Master!" She shouted.

Lorian stared at her. Was she talking to _her_? Fought back the insane urge to turn around and see if any one was behind them. Oh God, she couldn't possibly have two insane vampires calling her master now, could she? What was this world coming to anyway?

But as she closed the distance, ten feet maybe, Lori saw her eyes were glued to the dead man standing next to her. Alucard. Lori tore her gaze away and looked up at her teacher, startled. They _knew_ each other? He was smirking. It seemed like it, as Seras opened her arms wide and hugged him, still laughing. Lorian stared at them, fighting the urge to step back. Instead she gawked and noted that he did not hug her in return.

"Master! I thought I'd never see you again!" She cried jubilantly.

"Stop it, Police girl. I'm not your master anymore. You drank my blood of your own free will." He replied, but he was still smiling a bit. Just a little.

Seras uncurled her arms and looked at him, sadly. It showed deep in her eyes. What Alucard said was the truth, but what Lori also saw was that Seras hadn't wanted to sever that relationship between them. Had something forced them? Lori was opening her mouth to say something, or maybe ask something when another booming voice cut her off.

"Alucard! What are you doing awake!"

Seras straightened a little under that voice, shifted, and stood next to Alucard. When she moved, Lori saw not only her grandmother stalking down the way, but also her father and Gab at her heels and barely keeping up. Lori only spared them a glance, noting their gawking looks before looking back to Grandma.

Her cane was missing. She was moving on both legs swiftly, but the limp was still there, slightly in view. Her eyes were on the red clad vampire. Lori felt her jaw threatening to unhinge for the second time in her life in utter shock.

"I was woken up." He replied.

His smile widened at the sight of her and his glasses bowed down, as he looked over them. Suddenly, her teacher was far more mischievous than normal, and his fangs seemed to have all the more presence in his mouth. It was a bit disturbing.

"And _you've_ gotten older." He added.

"If I want to be reminded of my age, Alucard, I'll ask. Who woke you up?" Grandma demanded.

It made Lorian's head whirl around. What in the name of God was _happening_! Had the whole world gone completely and utterly insane! Was she still in the right _dimension_? She was dazed by all the confusion that was swimming around in her head and nearly missed the little nod her teacher made towards her.

"The little hell cat over there." He replied, smugly.

Lorian suddenly found herself subject to five different pairs of eyes. Two blood red. Two shocked and almost aghast sapphire, even in the dark. One ice cold blue. She looked at all of them, flickering over each thoughtfully (aware her face was covered in blood splatter) and felt the same nervous twinge come up from beneath. It was there, but it didn't rule her. What ruled her was the Killer sitting in the throne, the one still holding the gun to her side and watching with surprise.

There was a brief silence.

She opened her mouth.

"Lorian! How many times did I tell you not-" her father began, his face going that plum color. His eyes glared and he was taking a step forward to what? Grab her and drag her away? It didn't matter; he was stopped dead in his tracks.

"Be silent." Alucard said, boredly, not even bothering to look at him. Her father's mouth shut like a trap and he stared at the vampire, blue eyes as wide as they'd go. Plum to snow white. Alucard ignored him. He waved a hand to Lorian.

"Continue." He said. Lori glanced at her teacher, then to her father, then finally back to her grandmother.

"It was an accident." She said, morosely, "Gab put me in the forbidden room for trying to peek." Lori told the woman they called Sir Hellsing in a tired sigh.

It wasn't _exactly_ true, but it was close enough. She gave her brother a look, trying to cover for him as well as herself (she'd gone down there enough times…) as much as she could. He stared back, just as blankly, but nodded. Something shifted in his blue eyes. It seemed friendly enough.

So Lorian braced herself as she turned back to Sir Hellsing, ready to get the storm of the century to rain down on her head. Her grandmother spoke coldly and softly.

"How many times did you go down there?" She asked.

Lorian stood there and considered it. How many indeed?

"Thirteen times." Alucard answered for her. He seemed smug.

Sir Hellsing rounded on him, coldly seething. She was intimidating. Even the Killer within the little Hellsing wanted to take a step away from the woman when she was like this. Her father actually did. Gab stared. It felt like the very air was going to turn to ice.

"_That_ many!" She asked, outraged.

"She was a curious child. Persistent. I was _bored_." He said.

"You were _suppose_ to be asleep, Alucard!" He shrugged his shoulders.

"I was, for a while, but the New Queen ordered that the Judas Priest and I were also supposed to be destroyed after said vampire was eliminated, but I was hidden in a surrogate household. We're both still here, aren't we?" He countered off-handedly.

Sir Hellsing sighed, annoyed. Lori watched her take her glasses off and rub the bridge of her nose before replacing them. It made the girl want to blink in utter surprise. Was that a sign of weakening?

"That's not the issue, Alucard. You disobeyed a direct order from your Master." She told him.

"I believe you discarded that title when you put me back to sleep." He replied, "After I woke up for the first time, I did not have to return to dream if I did not wish it."

"The _first_ time?"

"Your son woke me. The cowardly bastard. He ran from the room when I tried to speak to him and never came back, but I'm sure you already knew about his character." He spoke airily, like he was talking about the weather. Lori did not dare to look at her father. She shifted her eyes to her teacher and tried to ignore his presence.

But then Alucard grinned wickedly.

"Though, by happy chance I was…justified. It _was_ considerable fun chasing him about the house when the little hell cat disappeared, wouldn't you agree?" He asked, glancing briefly at her dad, who turned even whiter, if it was possible.

Lori stood a bit more rigid as his words passed over her. She could suddenly see him. Her father, the powerful scolding man she'd known all her life, quite clearly, running through the halls screaming and looking scared out of his mind. His eyes rolling with terror in their sockets as he tried to escape. It was so vivid that she looked at Alucard, irritated, at showing her something like that.

Even if it did make her feel good for all the instances he had sighed and made some hinting comment as to being a failure.

It was still _wrong_.

Sir Hellsing just let out a soft groan of annoyance and looked at him. She ignored her son, ignored Gab, and ignored everyone but Alucard standing in front of her. He was the hardest to handle out of all of them. Lori understood completely.

"So how long _have_ you been awake?"

"About twenty years. I believe you told me I couldn't leave that room without permission or a new master. Which ever came first, your orders were."

Did he sound angry? Lori considered what he had just said. Being locked in a room with nothing to do for twenty years? Slowly starving and maybe slowly being driven into insanity? Yes, she could understand being angry.

"Yes, I remember." Sir Hellsing replied.

Her voice was notably softer. Sad? Lori wondered if she was making more of this than she should. Had her grandmother not been his Master before? Dad would've been if he had stuck around. Maybe even Gab if he did too.

But who kept coming? Felt the lingering need to come?

Like she was being called?

"You were stubborn with your fear." Alucard said, sparing her a moment. He _had_ caught her thoughts. Or read them. Lori looked at him and couldn't keep a sheepish smile off her face. He sounded more annoyed than angry, which was a good sign.

"Not as stubborn as…" _my father_, she meant to finish, but instead closed her mouth.

He was standing right there, obviously, and that couldn't be uttered in front of him, even if he was considerably less menacing since she last saw him. The man before her seemed to be a shell of the man she had known before. It was in the way his blue eyes kept away from her and continually slide towards the vampire, not in strength but fear. The way he shifted and stood a bit in front of Gab, shielding him with his body, as if Alucard would suddenly fly at him.

Away from her.

It made her sad.

"No, you're just more curious." Alucard retorted. Lori looked at him. What could she say to that? It was the truth wasn't it? She'd never intended opening that door. It was happy chance that made Gab open it and lock her in.

Wasn't it?

"You _made_ Gab throw me in." She told him, suddenly.

The frown came to her face first. There was no rage. It wasn't about him cheating again. Nor with anger at spending half the night wandering around in the dark, scared out of her mind; then utterly terrified when he finally did something about it. No. She frowned at the fact it had been Gabriel or her, and he picked her.

"Why?" She asked him.

He did not reply. He just gave her an irritated look. Lori continued to stare at him, wanting an answer. It didn't come from him. It never would. Instead, her grandmother spoke from next to her.

"Richard. Gabriel. Go back to the car."

Lori watched her brother nod to their grandmother and simply go without a word nor a backwards glance. Such was his nature, when it came to orders, even if he was busting with curiosity. Lori kept frowning after him. How could one such as _him_ go so willingly and placidly?

Her father was a bit more difficult.

"If this has to do with my daughter, then I-" He started, again, but was cut off.

"If you persist, I will rip your tongue out, regardless of your relationship to my master." Alucard said, softly, almost amused.

Yet Lorian could see he was not amused. She could see his hair starting to rise up a bit. It could've been mistaken as a thing done by the evening wind, but the girl could see the shape of a dog in that lock of ebony hair and his eyes flashed in a way that was a bit too predatory for her taste. The way Seras shifted next to him was even worse. Lori took a step towards them, opening her mouth to protest, but her grandmother took care of it.

"She'll be fine, Richard. Go back to the car." Sir Hellsing said, not looking at him.

Lori watched her father hesitate. Almost willed him to fight against them, to prove her wrong of her suspicions. To show that he did love her enough to risk himself for her, as he would for Gab. But, as he backed away and turned, looking at the vampire with an uneasy look, never glancing at her, it seemed Gabriel would always be his favorite.

And she'd always be lacking.

Lori could begin to feel her eyes starting to mist. Three things occurred. A hand rested on her head for a moment, an ice cold touch, but it was brief. When she turned to her teacher, it was gone, and the draculina was giving her a sympathetic look, trying to show support. Alucard gave her no look. Then her grandmother interrupted the on coming tears.

"You're made of different things than your brother, Lorian." She said.

Her hands were nimble as they took out a silver cigar case and stuck one in her mouth. She removed a match from her pocket, scratched it aflame with her thumb, and let the flame stroke the end of it for a moment before taking a drag.

The girl shook her head, and knuckled the premature tears from her eyes. Mourning the fact that her father didn't want her would have to be done later. Right now, things had to be settled between the head of the house and her.

"That doesn't make any sense!" Lori retorted and yet, also confessed, getting exasperated, "You were supposed to pick him. I _cheated_. You saw me do it. Aren't you supposed to follow the rules?" Lori asked, wanting to slam her foot on the ground.

For a moment, her grandmother didn't say anything. She just continued to smoke her cigar, looking at peace, or as peaceful as she could ever manage. When her hands moved to her pocket and pulled out her own pistol, Lorian's hand already matched her draw. They both drew and pointed their guns at their targets.

Each other.

No hesitation. The Killer within was leaned forward, ready to pull the trigger of the gun, but waiting for the say so.

"Was _that_ cheating?" Her grandmother asked coldly, but a smirk was on her face.

"T-that's different and you know it-" Lori started, but Sir Hellsing cut her off.

"No, it's not. Gabriel is use to set rules, but he can't function outside of them. He's a good boy, a _bright_ boy, but he doesn't have the sense of direction or the resourcefulness you sometimes need in battle. A battle never has any set rules, Lorian. It's kill or be killed. When the fight is for your life, anything goes. You proved to me you understood that."

When she lowered her weapon, Lorian followed suit. Yet her expression was still uneasy. Lori still wanted to open her mouth and tell her that, no, it was a mistake. To hell with what you say! Sure, maybe, but that still didn't make her right for the job. Lorain didn't need to say these things because her grandmother just saw it, plain as day, on her face.

"Do you want to know what's wrong with you, Lorian? It's your confidence. You're scared. You're scared to try because you think you're going to fail, and when you fail, you give up. That's your problem. Not your mind. Not your physical strength. It's your soul. Your determination. If we work on that, you'll be fine."

Sir Hellsing didn't offer a smile or a hug or anything else a grandmother or a mother would give. That just wasn't her style. It wasn't in her nature. She spoke bluntly and openly. Lorian just looked at her, gun still in her hand and blood drops dry and hard on her face. Looked passed her and found something surprising.

Her confidence _had_ changed.

She _had_ changed.

There was a flash of herself, at the very beginning of this whole mess, trying not to cry because she was locked in a dark place, alone. Would she cry now? No. The dark was her friend now. Would she have been able to point a gun and fire it at a Ghoul if Alucard hadn't fought her first? Wasn't that less frightening than dealing with him?

Hadn't he been helping her, and changing her all along?

"It's late, Lorian." Was all her grandmother said. Impatient. Ready to be off and go home, but she spoke calmly as she started to turn away.

"I have to talk to the Vatican tomorrow about the Queen's orders. Maybe there's a way around this absurdity. I'll need a night's rest before fighting with those idiots. God, this is a mess."

"She'll come home _after_ her nightly lesson." Alucard retorted. Sir Hellsing stopped and turned around. Glared at him.

"If I recall correctly, you don't make decisions."

"I do when it comes to my pupils." He retorted. And grinned when he got another smoldering glare, before she finally sighed.

"Fine, Alucard, just bring the Police girl with you. She's been reinstated. That way _I_ at least won't have stay up and worry about my granddaughter getting her head blown off half the night." She retorted and walked away. Lori blinked; aware that was about as close as she'd ever get to saying, out load, that she worried for her.

Alucard simply turned his face back to Lorain.

His gaze was as it always was. Lori stared at it, not very surprised to feel like she was dreaming. Those scarlet eyes were one in the same, of course. Why it had taken her so long to realize was beyond her. It seemed obvious now. So what were the dreams really if they weren't dreams at all? Could they be thoug-?

"And your orders are, my Master?" He asked, shaking her own _thoughts_.


End file.
